"Ap-bup-bup!" he said, nuzzling the bundle of vines. "Come on. Come on, wake up," he said gently. The vines seemed to shift and move, although Jacques was pretty sure that was just Whirlwind's movements causing that. Whirlwind frowned. "Don't be like that," he said, poking it with his nose. Something somewhere groaned audibly, creaking wood and something organic stretching. Whirlwind was lowered, physically lowered, by the vines which extended, growing and gently delivering the stag to the surface at a slow begrudging pace.