[center][color=green][h3]Imogen Reed[/h3][/color][/center]

Given wings by her panic, Imogen’s flight brought her to the far side of the island lickety-split. Her shoes pounded the sand only a little less hard than her heart pounded in her chest. No matter how little she knew or understood about her current situation, she knew one thing with every fiber of her being: that she wasn’t going to be eaten by that monstrosity. Even if her real body lay on the brink of death, whether in a hospital bed or on the silty seabed, and none of her actions here mattered one way or the other as to whether or not she’d see another day, Imogen wanted to live. More accurately, perhaps, she didn’t want to be ground into pulp inside that thing’s maw, or slowly disintegrated by its stomach acid. If she could help it, Imogen would keep going, because that’s what she’d always done no matter how bad things got. Even if all the world were to conspire to arrange her downfall, she’d find a way to persevere through sheer spite.

Right now, though, her grand designs ran into a little snag. Predictably, she ran out of island, and slid to a stop in a spray of sand just inches from the bubbling surf of that uncanny sea. Imogan whipped around to look for the frog, her breathing ragged and unsteady. Despite her best efforts, she could still see and hear that damnable amphibian through the trees, but at least it didn’t seem to be pursuing her. Phase two of her ‘plan’ had already begun, which consisted for the most part of hoping that bulbous freak went after someone else. She didn’t know if she could stay away from it if it set her sights on her; only now, after her brief burst of adrenaline, could she really begin to appreciate how much her mad dash took out of her. Probable malnourishment plus a rather sedentary lifestyle did not add up to make a physical powerhouse. Her vision swam, her throat hurt, and she could only wait and watch for danger as she struggled to stay standing.

From this distance she couldn’t see the whole story, but things didn’t look good. At first she Imogen wondered if the ungainly beast hadn’t pursued anyone -predators in the wild could be confused by the erratic movement of fleeing zebras and such, after all- but her heart sank as a more likely reason solidified in her mind. Someone might have tripped and fallen while trying to run, or maybe never fled at all, and remained paralyzed by fear on the spot. Gritting her teeth, Imogen tentatively moved along the shore until she could see a bit better, at which point her hands flew to her head. It was [i]Maive[/i]. Someone had already been eaten -Sofia, if God was just- and now Maive stood alone in front of the heavyweight horror as it finished up the first course to move on to the second. Imogen hated the thought of just standing here and watching it happen, but what could she -or anyone- do?

As if in reply, the wind began to pick up.

Imogen froze, blinking in surprise, as a cool gust blew through her hair. Everything had been weirdly still up until now, but all of a sudden this breeze coursed through the bushes and palm fronds, building with such surprising speed that Imogen needed to steady herself to not teeter over. Equally baffled and amazed, she watched from afar as the air seemed to gather into a rippling storm cell by Maive. After just another moment, that blustery mass burst, and from within emerged a cyclonic apparition, its body like a loosely-wrapped mummy with ‘bandages’ of spiraling air. Nobody who looked at it and saw another monstrous foe here to torment them could be blamed for assuming the worst, but something about it sprouted a sprig of hope in Imogen’s heart. The way it appeared behind Maive and focused on the titanic toad told her that, for whatever reason, it was here to help and not harm. Sure enough, the whirling spirit went on the offensive, attacking the malignant menace with giant ghostly hands. Unfortunately, Maive’s helper did not succeed. She failed to extract the person the frog gobbled up, and Maive herself took a withering blow right afterward. [i]That’s the end of that,[/i] Imogen thought, her hopes crushed and her day ruined (again), but somehow Maive survived the attack. Imogen’s grip on her head tightened, her eyes wide with worry. This emotional roller coaster sucked, and she wanted off. Being stuck in the peanut gallery sure wasn’t doing her emotional state any favors. She got the distinct impression that Maive and that inexplicable specter needed help, but Imogen couldn’t do anything. Scared, distant, powerless, worthless. Like always.