"...There is nothing remotely relaxing about this situation," Handy pointed out. As if to further cement his point, each ball of flame stretched and contorted, flowing and reaching out to one another in ghostly, sluggish movements. They floated upon the air, not at all bothered by the heavy rainfall, eventually leaving the entire clearing surrounded by a ring of fire. The flames travelled down the dolmans in lines and burned their way through the grass, following unknown, predetermined paths in concentric patterns around them, slowly drawing near each of them. "Whirl..." Panic was slowly rising in Handy’s voice. "Whirl what's going on!?" he shouted as the fire snaked its way towards him.