The monk put up a useless fight and was knocked bloodily aside in the process, and Alphonse didn't give a whit. Whatever happened to her was her own damn fault. Instead of panicking -- instead of feeling sorry or hateful -- Al kept a close eye on the groon's movements.

It just so happened that just as the groon tore open the violent monk, it achieved the proper placement.

A slow, smug grin grew on Al's face, and he yanked on the string.

High above, a wasp nest exploded with a splintery [i]pop[/i] and a billowing dark cloud of spiked wasps dropped directly onto the groon's head. The groon howled and smashed itself in the face with its own paws, spinning and stomping and flailing in a confused rage. The wasps were driven mad by the noise and the pungent stench of the groon; their stingers were merciless.

Alphonse leaped forward, smashed the bottle at the groon's feet, and dashed away just as a cloud of hissing green smoke engulfed the groon. The wasps shriveled and fell to the ground while the groon's roar turned into a pitiful whine. Its eyes drooped, and then the great beast toppled unconscious into the trees, snapping limbs on its way.

Alphonse clambered atop a boulder to see whether the groon was indeed knocked out completely -- then he dragged a stick closer to Din and poked her with it. "Still alive?"