With dust in your eyes you blindly grope for the branch you glimpsed.  Your fingers touch the tip of the branch but as you try to grasp it, the branch skitters away from your hand as your panicked body involuntarily slaps it.  Disoriented from the noise and terror you quicky flail along the ground trying to find it again. 

As your hands move from side to side along the ground your chest starts to tighten as you remain unable to find the branch.  Starting to panic, you try to remember which way your terrified hand slapped the branch.  As you continue to blindly sweep the ground your breaths come in ragged gasps as your panic starts to overwhelm you.  Unwilling to stop searching you flail even more wildly along the ground.  Rocks cut your palms and are immediately caked with dust.  You lose all sensation as abrasions and scratches cover your hands. 

As your body gives up the fight you manage to strike the ground in one last meaningless gesture of frustration and terror.  The WereDucks continue to circle and quack at you.  Several seconds pass.  Waiting for death, it feels like forever.  Like a ray of light banishing the cold dark night of your haunted dreams, you realize your right hand did not come down onto anything that felt like dusty ground.  A sliver of wood reminds you that your crashing hand happened upon a branch.  With a glimmer of hope you grab the branch. 

Option 1- Afraid to lose the branch again you try to reach out and stick it into the spokes of one of the WereHarleys

Option 2- Afraid to get too close to the WereHarleys you toss the branch in an attempt to get it in the spokes of one of the bikes