When I heard DQueene's cry of alarm, I rose to the occasion. Literally. From my vantage point above the treetops I could see the surrounding hiils, forest, and everything. But I didn't see anything even vaguely resembling "Lightning" barreling toward the chemically impaired wastrels.
I [color:"orange"]did[/color] see DQueene perform a feat of inhuman strength, grace, and dexterity, when she swooped in on the girls and covered them like a dragon nesting her eggs. I even imagined for a moment that she [color:"orange"]was[/color] a dragon.
Then it hit me: maybe DQueene really is a dragon. I hovered there for half a moment pondering the thought, when ...
It hit me: An enormous bolt of energy! When I say "enormous", I mean huger than titanic. It was 100 meters wide and shot down out of the sky like the force beam of a DeathStar. No, a HyperDeathStar. Maybe even a DreadnaughtHyperDeathStar.
I was its first victim. Every elemntary particle of my body became radioactively unstable and the basic elements of Air, Earth, Water, Fire, and Spirit jumped to the Chaos energy level. Plus two. I had trouble keeping a clear mind through the ordeal, and a part of me wondered what chance those drunken fools would have with their chemically-induce, clinically depressed mental capacities. Not to mention the high probability of alcohol poisoning increasing their morbidity ratings and complicating Hypatia's booboo-kissing efficaciousness.
One of the reasons I started thinking in big words was because the explosive energy and searing heat of the energy bolt was splitting me into thriteen separate BeeGees -- tinier than the original, but perfect replicas in every detail.
And the energy bolt continued to blast away for nearly two minutes!
A fortunate side effect of all that energy smacking my booboo, was that I deflected more than 99.9927 percent of it away from the group. From where I could see -- and we're talking about 26 eyes to see with -- DQueene's huddle was completely unscathed. The distinct odor of burnt hair and scorched flesh rose from the vicinity of the inebriated revelers, and they began doing the bow-legged version of the "squirrel-ran-up-my-trousers" dance. Each of their flasks, bottles, and wineskins had instantly become Molotov Cocktails, shattering into a million pieces and billowing fire and concussion.
For six or seven kilometers, every tree was blown down. Every boulder rolled. Every stream evaporated, Every grain of sand turned to glass. And everything decided to smolder -- smelling almost as bad as the weed that had been passed around the campfire.
"No time for sightseeing" I reminded myself. "Pull yourself together, BeeGee!" another me said. "We need to find Kiya ASAP." another me observed. "You remind me of my cousin" one of me said to the other me.
The mini-me's joined hands and slowly descended toward the ravaged earth (although I'm certain the ground was not of the Earth).
