There are things in the world that it is simply impossible to believe, even with the idea of a twist in genes making people levitate or play literal mind games. One such thing was that there was something worse than being on the jet. Like being in a jet that had lost an engine. When Slate tried to reassure Locke with that bit of knowledge, the Californian stared at him as though he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. How do you lose an engine? It's not like it goes anywhere and why didn't you make sure it was working the whole time?! Clearly Locke wasn't meant for the jet set life.

Being in the jet was bad, but not nearly as horrible as getting out of it. Yes, the sooner he jumped out the sooner he'd get to the ground. Just please, not too quickly. A second chute was provided to Locke and he eyed it warily. He set it down, grabbed his portable Fluffy, and wore that like a baby carrier. No way was he going to be going out of this plane without his companion. Now it was time for him to make his jump.

One one thousand. Two one thousand Locke had left the spare chute up in the Blackbird, holding onto his backpack for all he was worth. Just having the stones in it pressing up against his chest kept him from screaming. Either that or that he wasn't even sure that he could open his mouth. His eyes were watering as he plummeted and he kind of had to squint them. Three one thousand four one thousand. Ten seconds can seem like forever when you are dreading what will happen at the end of it. Time seemed to swell with each one thousand that Locke counted off. Five one thousand six one thousand. What was going on down on the beach? Those that didn't need the packs of floating were just standing around there. Were they waiting for Slate, Koga and himself? Seven one thousand, eight one thousand Was he suppose to aim for them? Koga had said when to pull the cord, and that if he needed help that Rebecca could help him. Locke didn't want to stop thinking those numbers though. The ground was coming at him fast, and for an instant he could feel what it must be like to be on the wrong side of Fluffy. Nine one thousand ten one thousand pull! Locke's hand flew free from the backpack easily, but getting it to the pull chord required him to fight against the breeze. For a frightening second, the most heart stopping moment Locke had ever experienced, nothing happened. He was still falling.

But nothing had gone wrong. Locke's parachute opened the way that it was suppose to. The teen just had expected an instantaneous halt. Instead of going down Locke was, rather painfully, jerked back up. If he was going to hurl the moment was passed. That sudden lift when his chute caught the air had pulled his stomach so rapidly that he didn't have time to lose what little breakfast he had managed. Oh yes, a parachute was worse than a jet, as impossible as it may seem. At least the jet's movements were comforted by foam seats.

Locke couldn't help it. Laughter fell out of him. Not a joyful, “That was a blast! Let's do it again!”, sort of laughter. Rather it was the “Holy crap on a cracker how am I not dead yet?” kind of laugh. The worse of the mission, to Locke at least, was almost over. All he had to do was drift back down to where he was suppose to be, like an oversized dandelion puff in summer. With his two feet on the ground he was going to be unstoppable.

And his services were required immediately. Cervantes and Saph looked to be sinking into the ground. Saph's descent made sense to the teen. He had to have hit the ground pretty hard and probably was in the crater that he had created. But Cervantes had landed in the ocean. Unfamiliar with the workings of his chute, Locke ignored the fact that he was covered with an inverted silk hammock. His mind was in the sand on the beach. Water was in it he'd bet. The sand had the bloated feel to it that it got whenever it was wet. Time for some math that Locke could actually do. Sand, plus water, plus high speed impact equals..”Quicksand?” he asked. Jorge was doing his best to get the water out of the sand, which was useful to Locke. It was at a mixture he felt more comfortable with. Large hands, each the size of a beach ball rapidly were forming at the edge of the quicksand. Locke was mixing what was safe to stand on with the less wet sand. ”Grab 'em,” the parachute that was Locke called to Jorge. Like Saph, Locke was aware of the danger approaching. He couldn't say what it was that the earth was being so kind to inform him of, but it weighed a good deal, and there was multiple things. Or at least something with many legs.

With some effort, Saph was wedged out of the ground, and the two men in control of their respective elements were fighting against the quicksand. The ground was becoming stable, so Rebecca could reclaim her shield to prepare for what the team apparently had in store for them according to Saph's... whatever sense he had, along with what was now a noticeable rumbling from the trees.

Well, time was running short, and any moment it could run out and they would be faced with the next challenge. Rebecca was not planning on taking the lead or anything, but the situation was worth assessing out loud while there was time. "Well, we're nae gorna find information we might need on the beach. We need tae push into the forest. Plus... guys..."

Rebecca only noticed it midway through her last sentence, but she was fairly certain her eyes were not deceiving her. "...Ah think the mountain is smok--"

The girl was cut off rather violently by the advanced guard bursting out of the forest. They were not the loudest, but the birds of the forest still escaped the trees first. Two small blue birds came first like darts, faster than Rebecca anticipated them. Once clanked into her chestplate and dropped, but the other's sharp beak scratched her uniform and left a small cut on her bicep.

Now on guard, Rebecca was at the very least able to spot a brown bird of prey half her size. She lifted her shield in time to catch the bird. Rebecca was pushed back through the air several feet, and the large bird hit the ground dazed.

She would not leave her team, but she Rebecca elevated into the air. Somehow the aerial animals were targeting her as the only aerial target, so it was best to keep her team out of the crossfire.

They would have their own issues it would seem, as Rebecca watched as land beasts large and small broke through onto the beach.

Jorge was doing his best to dehydrate the ground but it just seemed as if the beach itself was going everything it could to defend against him. More water seeped in than he could control but still he managed to slow it down to the best of his ability. Pulling the liquid out, she sent it back into the ocean, trying his best to focus on those that were being sucked under. It looked as if Lodestone had Saphrius under control, but he needed to get both himself and Locke out of this mess.

Once he had dried the earth enough though, he began to wiggle free and nearly jumped when large hands of sand crept out of the ground.

>> ”Grab 'em,”

Jorge nodded as he grabbed onto the hands and pulled himself out of the quicksand the rest of the way. Secure on dry land again, he dashed away from the beach, trying to keep away from the spot he had been in as much as possible. It seemed as if the quicksand was isolated to that simple area so that helped to avoid falling into any more traps. It was clear that their best option was to put distance between themselves and the beach.

Looking to Locke, Jorge nodded and gave the young man his thanks for the assist back there.

>> "Well, we're nae gorna find information we might need on the beach. We need tae push into the forest. Plus... guys...Ah think the mountain is smok--"[/color]

Jorge tilted his gazes as he turned back to the only mountain on the island. He was shocked to see that indeed he thought he spied some smoke coming from it in the distance. In the back of his mind, he could only grumble. He really didn’t want to deal with another volcano. The last time he dead, he nearly ended up in a coma because of how much water he needed to move in order to keep people safe. It was worth it to save lives, but it was also rather annoying.

But, he would deal with whatever came.

Well at least he thought he would. He was not prepared for the explosion of motion that came from the jungle. He had heard Saphrius say that he was picking up movement and that was quickly proven so when birds flew directly at them. A pair struck at Lodestone and soon, the rest that followed, all began to attack those that were gathered.

“You’ve got to be kid—“ he ducked as a rather large bird swooped down in order to take his head off but Jorge threw himself down to the ground, barely missing those razor sharp talons.

He liked animals, but he was going to have to go on the offensive here. Reaching out with one hand, he pulled a slithering snake of water from the ocean directly to his side. As the bird took another dive for him, screeching into the air, Jorge lashed his hand across his path, sending a powerful water jet into the bird’s beak. A gurgle was barely heard before the bird crashed down onto the beach and flopped in confusion.

Jorge sighed as he moved onto his feet and began to slip past the bird when he heard a rather loud humming. Turning towards the jungle he paused as suddenly a mass of large wasps all buzzed angrily and shot directly at him. Wide eyed, Jorge summoned the water again and immediately put him a swirling shield of liquid around him. Catching the insects, they swirled and were caught up, protecting him from attack.

He was slowly connecting the dots that these attacks were not entirely normal.

Birds were a problem, but it looked like Jorge and Rebecca had them handled. He was most concerned with the rest of the island's population, which seemed to be coming right at them. The animals that arrived first? A small group of boars. Most people underestimated boars; the thought things like, 'Oh, look at the piggie!', or 'Don't Hawaiians eat these?' Truth be told, though, they were very, very dangerous. Quick, too.

A smirk appeared on his face as his teeth chattered a little. Whether or not Slate liked his method of gaining energy, it was about to make defending him quite easy. The first boar came into range, and Saph placed his right hand and his left hand close together; this made it so that when his ability kicked in, and naturally produced a reflexive spin to put his right hand toward the creature, his left hand could simply poke in and deliver a burst of energy.

This happened three times in rapid succession, splaying out three knocked out pigs, which skid to a stop on either side of the telepath behind him. The X-trainee chuckled as he patted his hands together, but froze as he felt a large number of projectiles flying their way. It turned out the projectiles were coconuts, and monkeys were throwing them.

That's right... There were a bunch of monkeys throwing coconuts at the X-Men. He knocked two out of the air, and let another hit his right side. "They're right... we need to move!" He started a sideways advance, hoping Slate would either stay behind him, or find some other way to avoid being cracked in the head by a bunch of fruit. A quick turn revealed two more charging swine. He beat one back with a rather harsh kick to the jaw, aided by some extra force... The second was stopped by his right hand, which it bit at with laughable results before it was felled with a slap. A coconut did find its way in while he was doing that, though, smacking against his ribs, and pushing the air from his lungs. He kept moving even as he tried to recover...

This was going to be a long day, wasn't it?

Slate's theory of how to stabilize the sand transferred well into practice. Both Locke and Jorge proved highly competent with their powers, to the point where those of the party incapable of convenient flight were able to pull their way free of the sand, and onto somewhat more stable grounds.

His theory of the quicksand's origins, however, may have been... based on incomplete and hastily acquired information. Unless Saphirus had hit the island hard enough to upset all of its animal residents, the quicksand likely was not his fault, either.

These things Slate observed, from very close behind Saphirus ' back, as the man punched pigs.

I believe I owe you an apology, he stated simply into the man's mind, during the lull between the boars' charge and the start of the... coconuts.

Slate covered his head with his arms, and ran. It seemed very wise to stay as close to Saphirus as possible. The man seemed very good at what he did.

Koga, where is the site of the village? Slate broadcast to the entire party. Shelter would, perhaps, be wise to seek. We can plan our next move from there.

And see what had become of the missing villagers. Though Slate had a theory about that now, as well. He hoped he was wrong.

Rebecca was at a moral impasse. The girl was a huge animal lover, and she would be the first to pass judgment on someone who harmed animals. Before touching down on the island, she would have proudly told anyone that there was no valid reason for harming an animal.

Now, she found it hard not to rationalize "they were chasing me down and trying to kill me" as a fair reason.

It was not something she was happy about, but with the large brown bird chasing her and making up distance with superior speed, what choice did she have? She pivoted around in the air, still travelling backwards. She tossed her shield, guiding it magnetically. When the shield collided hard with the beak of the animal, the thought flashed through Rebecca's head: When we get back, Ah'm gorna become a vegetarian.

The shield returned to her in time for her to counter the bullet-birds, protecting her body by curling up to gain more coverage.

There were several bugs buzzing around and Jorge seemed to be doing his best to catch them in his water. It would have been a convenient time to have Agnes around, and that very thought riled Rebecca up with a renewed desire to succeed. They could totally do this without her.

Rebecca landed on the ground with some force, shielding herself and a teammate behind her from a coconut. (It might have been Slate or Koga, but she did not check; Rebecca was in vindictive-vision, focused mainly on the animals like they were a defender for her to bowl through.) She tossed the shield at the monkey, temporarily free of her capacity for guilt, as Slate's broken, static-ridden voice suggested shelter in her head.

"Shelter sounds good. Point the way and I'll beat a way through it," she grumbled. The psychic could probably tell that Rebecca's mood was annoyed and petty, but at least it was focusing her; violent and goal-oriented was probably better than kind-hearted and hesitant.

>> Shelter would, perhaps, be wise to seek. We can plan our next move from there.

>> "Shelter sounds good. Point the way and I'll beat a way through it,"[/color]

Jorge nodded in agreement. If they could get into some kind of shelter, they could take the time to actually calmly discuss what was going on. From what Jorge could see, it looked as if the whole island was turning against them: animals, insects, the very ground itself. He couldn’t comprehend exactly what was behind it but now was most definitely not the time. With the rush of activity and having just landed, there really was little chance to sit and think this through.

The boy’s voice was still in his head though. Shelter. If they could find shelter, they could at least catch their breath and compare theories, maybe figure out what was going on.

Creeeeak!!![/b]

Jorge blinked, shaken from his thoughts, as he twisted his wrist and banished away the water that was filled with stunned and dead wasps. As it spilled to the ground, he glanced at his surroundings, trying to pinpoint the location of that sound. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and no where at all. It was disorienting for the most part. The sounds rolled over his form in waves to the point that he could have sworn that the trees were moving.

As a matter of fact, he caught himself from tipping over as he saw several tall palm trees swaying thanks to, what, vertigo? Dementia? Maybe some kind of sudden sicken—

“Sh!t!!” Jorge rolled out of the way as his most unusual opponents made themselves known.

WHOMP!! WHOMPWHOMP!![/b]

Jorge kept dashing, ducking, rolling, as several tall palm trees slammed themselves down onto the beach. Jorge just couldn’t believe his eyes but he didn’t allow himself time to take it in and think about it. It seemed that whenever he stopped another one of the trees bent enough to strike and send up a spray of sand. Rhythmic THUDTHUDTHUDS[/b] kept him moving long enough until he spied the one tree get smart. It laid low until Jorge was close enough to strike at him across his mid-section.

It swung; hard, fast, and with indiscrimination.

Jorge narrowed his eyes and saw no other option. It struck and the detective exploded into a spray of water.

When Locke had thought that the earth wasn’t going to be happy about Saph’s crashing into it, he had been thinking only of the emotions that he tied to the earth. He didn’t realize that it actually was pissed off. Not just the earth, but the creatures on the island too. As the birds attacked Locke was getting his way out of the parachute. He was growing frustrated with the stupid thing. He gave up trying to get the cloth off his head first and worked on removing the straps. Creatures were stampeding them and Locke needed to do something. Getting to shelter was a good plan, but with the entire island after them the only shelter that there might be was back on the jet. Hardly a comforting thought.

Locke’s method of defending himself against the oncoming beasts was simple. He didn’t run away, he didn’t throw anything at them. All he did was quickly enter the earth, start up a golem, and abandoned it. The result was an explosion of dirt and uneven ground. His intention was to trip up the stampede, but it also worked to serve as some cover for incoming coconuts. Something had felt off though, for that brief moment that he had been working with the earth. Describing how something like dirt could have different emotions and moods was a hard task. It wasn’t like it had a face that you could see break into a smile. This earth felt like it resisted for a moment, as if it wasn’t sure that it should listen to him.

Metal could not be bothered. Locke could ‘see’ with it, but it didn’t want to do anything else. Glass was similar, but it eventually gave in. What the earth manipulator had just tried working with was neither, and it did give in to his will the way that it should, but it felt almost guilty. What did you do wrong? Locke asked it, falling into line behind Lodestone and Cervantes. His backpack had been slung over his shoulders. From the backpack the two hands emerged. This was why Locke’s backpack was loaded with almost his weight of stones. Having no workable material would be dangerous, to say the least. With a portable Fluffy, Locke could follow the others and still have his back covered.

Koga quickly pulled the relaeases for the parachute and un did the buckles as he moved toward the quicksand but, Locke and Jorge had it taken care of. “Not in particular, but anywhere you have ssand and water near each other you can have quick ssand, there iss an area ssomewhere below that sspot that iss retaining more of the water than it can releasse. Natural but treacherouss. Animalss running toward danger however iss not typical of most sspeciess, particularly non predatory birdss.”

He glanced at where the sun was and oriented himself and realized that they were about 50 yards north of the ideal entry, however that would be a small issue. “A mile inland and about fifty yardsss east.” He hiked his duffle bag onto his shoulder and was thankful when Lodestone made her landing and took a defensive position. With his hands now free and a second to think about not dodging incoming he pulled a pair of roman candles out of his duffle bag. A zippo found in its way to his other hand and he started firing back at the monkeys, He thought animals might be an issue and there are two things you can count on animals to hate, bright light heading to them in miniature meteor form and water in high pressure streams. Seriously, you could fend off most bears with nothing more than a water hose and Jorge had the covered. He wasn’t concerned about fire as the level of humidity would discourage any worry of grass fires.

“ Sslate any chance you can take a pssychic look around the issland for angry animal manipulatorss? Alsso a note worth having, That volcano, iss ssuppossedly inactive. The Ssmoke ssuggestss otherwisse.”

That’s about when the detective expletive’d and splashed into a big mess as the trees started attacking. The trees were attacking, the ground was attacking, the animals were attacking, and the mountain was smoking. He wasn’t entirely sure that cover would be enough.

There was nothing where Jorge once stood. Not even the uniform he was wearing when he touched down on the island was anywhere to be seen. Judging by the pandemonium that was occurring all around, it was simple to understand why. Trees were bending to the attack, animals were charging from all corners, the very earth itself was attempting to swallow them whole. It was such chaos that it would have been easy for a single person to vanish with no trace of him. And such a fate had apparently befallen the police detective of New York’s 18th precinct.

The world around the group of trainees, proving to be far more hostile than expected, was throwing absolutely everything it had at them. The stream of animals was near endless and with an entire of landmass of flora and fauna, it would be hard for the group to find a calm section for shelter. In the end, it almost looked like there was little to stop them.

Then, from out of trees, came the sounds of rushing. It flowed and rolled over the individual granules of sand that covered the beach. Before long, there was a rapid burst thunder rumbling from the sand. Water began to spill upward, flowing up as if a hidden spring had been found. The water churned and rolled, reforming into a vague, humanoid mass as Jorge reappeared in full elemental form.

Water spilled all around but each droplet that fell rejoined the swirling humanoid. He was standing behind the group of trainees and saw that they desperately needed a second wind. Both hands jutted out, a gurgling roar erupted from Jorge’s mouth as he summoned the waters at the beach’s edge. A massive surge of water from the ocean itself flew onto the land and began to circled around the gathered group of trainees.

Arms jutting up, the water elemental summoned the water to swirled, fast and strong and fed directly from the ocean itself. The watery walls rose into a dome that covered and churned protectively around the group of X-Men. Once it was sealed, the walls of waters spun and knocked away attacking animals, dizzying and disorienting those that made it through, and knocking away any projectiles being thrown from the offensive animals.

Jorge focused, struggling to maintain his elemental form and keeping the water shields up. He couldn’t talk in this form so he spoke mentally, hopefully to Slate since there was a connection there.

Slate. I can’t talk in this form. I will keep this up as long as I can, but we need figure out what is going on. Make sure Locke stabilizes the ground as well...

He hoped that the others, even if they couldn’t hear him, could get the gist of what he was trying to do; give them a second to breathe.

Quicksand, Boars, Monkeys, and now freaking TREES were attacking them! Saph was busy dealing with half of the island's animal population as the trees starting smacking into the ground in a desperate attempt to smash the good detective; he knew of their actions because he could feel it.

I believe I owe you an apology The thought popped into his head, and he didn't formulate a clear response... He really wasn't the type to rub people's face in their mistakes. He just audibly grunted in response, and kicked a baboon in the jaw... Woah... He never thought he'd ever perform that sort of action on that particular species of jungle creature. This whole experience was just... odd. As he thought that, he felt a tree hit Jorge... and he felt the man's form almost disappear in response.

Crap...

Before he could even begin reasoning that the man was a water mutant, and had a water form, a chipmunk dove at his face, and latched onto his eyebrow. He growled, cursing himself for dropping his guard, and ripped the creature off before it could do any more damage. The stinging sensation, drew a less than silent curse from him as he threw the rodent at a charging boar.

He heard Koga speak up, announcing a wealth of knowledge... The volcano was not meant to be active, the monsters were not supposed to be attacking them, and the quicksand wasn't super abnormal. Good to hear... More importantly, he brought up possible animal manipulators... "Yeah... This has to be a mutant's doing... or several? Perhaps the Island's inhabitants are involved..." He couldn't see one mutant doing all of this... He'd fought against many mutants in his time on the streets, and none of them were strong enough to pull something like this off... Still, he'd been proven wrong in the past. Then again, he wasn't sure if Slate could carry out the chameleon mutant's request... He'd come to the conclusion that the young man, like many other mutants of his type, had to perform some sort of action to link his mind to another... He knew a girl who had to punch the person she was linking with in the face... that, or she really just wanted to punch him. Still, she wasn't able to talk to as many people as Slate seemed to be able to...

A palm tree smacking down just out of range of him made him recall the detectives fate...

Have we lost him? He asked, looking down the beach at something that had caught his eye... Was that?- Before he could complete the thought to himself, he felt a rush of motion from the ocean, and before he knew it they were encased in a swirling dome of water... Impressive, detective... Damn impressive.

"Alright. We sure as hell don't have much time... I think I saw a boat down shore a little bit... If we make it there, maybe we can ride it inland? Wasn't there a small stream on the map? I figure most villages sit not too far from water sources, right? Maybe that's our best bet... If we try to get through the trees... Well... You and I ain't gonna be nearly as lucky as the good detective, here." He motioned to the dome around them... Another note to self; twenty feet wasn't nearly enough... Maybe he would have to meet with the detective from the other side of a football field from now on.

A sweaty hand reached up to wipe blood from his eye... Great, the last thing he needed was a blood obstructing his vision while trying to fend off... what ever was going on here.

Sometimes, Slate wished for a more offensive mutation. There was the incident where his arm had been blown off by a disgruntled employee; then the stabbing by a drug lord's minion in Colombia; then the fiasco with Kaitlyn on their Valentine's Day date, among other things. Granted that his healing had rendered these experiences less traumatic than they would have otherwise been, but the fact remained: sometimes, Slate wished for a more offensive mutation. Perhaps then, he would not need his healing in the first place.

A coconut hit his elbow, where he was protecting his head. Another hit his shoulder. And then Saphirus was punching a baboon, while a boar charged from the bush towards him, and there was no one there to stand between him and it. Jumping out of the way would not do very much good; if he did, he'd be in reach of the trees which were tenderizing the ground just a few feet away. It was a simple calculation: the boar's tusks might gut him, but the trees might give him a concussion. One of these states was far more perilous than the other, to a man who healed with his mind.

Slate braced himself as the wild pig rushed forwards—

Oh, good. Saphirus threw an angry chipmunk into its eyes. With a snort of surprise, it veered off course, directly into the trees. The result was like pork chops, undercooked.

...Perhaps Saphirus had more strategical abilities than Slate had credited him with.

>> “ Sslate any chance you can take a pssychic look around the issland for angry animal manipulatorss?

"Regrettably, I require direct physical contact before I am able to—"

Slate's explanation was rudely cut short by a coconut to the face. He fell backwards, bracing himself with his hands as he hit the ground.

For the first time, Slate came into skin-to-earth contact with the island.

Mabaodi was pleased. These new pests were more hardy than the others had been—they had even turned parts of Maboadi's earth and Maboadi's water against Mabaodi. But it would not be very long. Maboadi's trees and animals would keep them by the shore; they would not reach Maboadi's summit. Nothing would interfere with Maboadi's growth.

Already Maboadi grew warm; already steam and smoke showed from the center of Maboadi's heart. Soon fire would boil up and over, and trees and animals and pests would all be gone. It would be good.

...Slate blinked upwards. It was not just Saphirus, now: everyone was nearby. Except for Jorge. All around them was sky. Why...? Oh. No, that was water.

Oh. That was Jorge.

"I regret to inform you all," Slate groggily spoke up, "that this island is alive. And thinking in the third person."

...His head hurt now. Very much.

When he was working with the earth there wasn't too much that Locke heard. It wasn't that he couldn't actually hear what people said, his ears worked just fine. Having his mind in pebbles or sand didn't mean that his ears had suddenly shut off. He did however pick up on the “b” word, and it wasn’t a swear. ”My feet stay on the ground,” Locke shouted to Saph. His stomach had been unsettled on the jet because of nerves. If he had to get onto a boat Locke was going to hurl. No maybe, he wasn’t going to be able to keep what was in him in him. Boats tended to do that to him.

Should there be any doubt that Locke should be left on dry grand he proved how much more useful he would be there. A tree was becoming loose near him, close enough that he would be hit as it fell. Before it could do so, the ground in front of it pushed up and away, a golem that hadn’t been fully given form. The tree’s direction was reversed and crashed towards the other trees, away from the trainees. Following the direction he had pushed the tree there was what might have been a wave if this was water. Usually when Locke moved earth around it was pulling it towards him. This time he was pushing it away. A charging boar was tossed back and a few of the small animals were buried now.

Slate had taken a hit, Locke noticed that, but what had hit him he wasn’t sure of. That had occurred when Locke was doing his earth stuffs. The telepath felt now was the time to let on that the island was alive. Not the alive that was probably implied in the Sound of Music. This was the living creature sort of alive. That’s why it felt so guilty when I used it. The island doesn’t want us here and I’m making it listen to me. “An island is just it’s parts. We’ve got this covered.” A strangely optimistic statement from the teen, but in spite of all the attacking flora and fauna he truly felt that they could do it. He was still getting the earth to obey him, and in a worse case scenario he had his own portable Fluffy. The water surrounding the earth would listen to Jorge. Anything else the others could deal with.

Rebecca glided down toward the trees, accepting that they would solve nothing remaining on the beach all day. The girl was only able to narrowly pull away from a branch trying to take a swipe at her, which was lucky compared to Jorge, who was smashed into droplets in front of her eyes. Already they lost a teammate. "Jorge!"

There was tragically no time to mourn mid-battle, with hard coconuts exploding against her shield. Slate was asked to scan the island for mutant influences, which lead to the confession that Slate's ability to search for thoughts was more limit than Rebecca originally thought. Physical contact? Soddin' good that does us! Realizing that Slate could probably still detect her thoughts, she mentally added, um, sorry. It was a dual apology for her rude thought and for Slate's unfortunate run-in with a stray coconut. She would really have to put more stock in defending the lone healer.

With no warning, someone else seemed to have the idea of defending the group as well, based on the water bubble forming around them. Of course; Jorge was an elemental, so that tree did little besides liquefy him, which was not as bad as it would be for most people.

The news was coming in quick waves, and not a single darn piece was of the "good" variety. Not only was Rebecca's observation of the smoke correct, but the island itself was... thinking?

Okay, that was absurd, even in light of the situation Rebecca was currently stuck in.

Jorge's bubble was protecting them for the moment, so there was no time to waste. "There's nae way the island is thinking. That's... that would be impossible. Ah'm sure there's more tae this."

Rebecca's denial would have to wait; there were at least two pressing issues. "Maybe we should divvy up th' team. We need tae find out what happened tae th' village, bit th' volcano... we have tae figure that out, too." There was clearly a piece of information they were missing. Quite possibly several.

To be honest, she knew which one she would prefer to volunteer for, but she also knew which one made sense. "Ah'm willing tae investigate th' mountain." She liked calling it a mountain rather than a volcano, since one sounded infinitely more friendly. "There might be ore deposites Ah can work with if need be."

She awaited a response; either a voice rejecting her idea (which she would be more than happy to accept,) or a voice approving of her stupid plan and signing up for one of the two valid suicide missions.

”The island has a mind of its own,” Locke insisted. Let Lodestone think otherwise. The team’s psychic thought it, and Locke knew that the earth wasn’t responding right. Dirt wasn’t hard to work with, even in the dead of winter when the first few inches were frozen over. Other than cement it was the most common element that Locke worked with. Making a golem with it took hardly any effort on his part. There shouldn’t have been any hesitation on the earth’s part when he had been working with it. Unfortunately the teen didn’t have any way to explain how he could tell what the earth was thinking. Not that it had thoughts like “I need to go to the haberdasher”. There weren’t even words with what the earth thought or felt, not with how Locke interpreted it. It was hard to not give a rock human emotions when it responds differently depending upon what kind of rock it was.

Going to the mountain sounded promising. Mountains were nothing more than a large pile of potential Fluffies for him. However there was something more pressing to deal with. Travel Fluffy folded himself back into the backpack. Locke was now able to concentrate on the tree that he had pushed out of the way. Using an underground golem he shoved it on one end to take care of the boar that he had missed with his tidal wave. He was willing to believe Slate’s claim that the island was thinking for itself, but he had no clue about the animals. Locke liked cats, provided that they weren’t the super long haired ones, and he wasn’t too fond of dogs. Boars and monkeys he felt belonged in a zoo. Birds had high velocity droppings that could hit you on your head as you walked past. Animal life was not his specialty.