Kawaiola stands near the front, heedless that her two-tonne bulk and sixteen foot height is blocking the view for those behind - and her swishing tail isn't exactly a picnic, either. That said, she's a view in her own right, soft sharkskin wrapped in a few scraps of fabric barely suitable for the beach, let alone an emergency town meeting.<br/><br/>Yet she herself is distracted, her senses telling her of prey nearby, a unique scent deeper and more enticing than the towns human population... it seems to be coming from behind, and her efforts to pinpoint it, turning regularly to glance back, are only more disruptive. Yet no one seems prepared to intervene, at least not after she's smiled politely at them with a mawful of razor sharp fangs.<br/><br/>It seems to be coming from the rough area of a green-skinned woman, rather pretty and exceptionally tasty-looking...