The sight of the huge Beast had made her cringe, certain death had melted out of the swirling snow - but instead of attacking as the froglings had, it had burst past and driven back the nasty little creatures, their foul slime staining the snow all around them. Pylea's hands were warm, but the girl seemed to be low on juice (or flames) at the moment, as Ember's arms remained lashed together behind her back. She huddled close to her friend as the creature obliterated their attackers, creating a circle around them in which it paced back and forth, huffing.<br/><br/>She had never seen anything like it, and yet... yet something in its eyes made her chest clench with unexpected recognition. "Hannibal?" Her eyes skittered down over him, wincing at the sight of the many arrows sticking out of his huge form, and arrows or no she took a step and a half toward him.<br/><br/>Even that little bit of movement was enough to break the brief stalemate he'd established with the froglings! Gibbering, they charged en masse, making the girls shriek. But the swarm of squat bodies didn't hit them again. With another roar, Hannibal put himself in their way, lashing out with heavy fists and thunderous hooves to obliviate creature after creature. He even bent and snatched one up by the legs, wielding it like a club to bat aside some of its leaping compatriots and a few of their arrows.<br/><br/>He couldn't stop them all, though. Some of the creatures dashed past him, and Ember and Pylea soon found themselves trying to dodge spears themselves. One of the frogs darted toward Ember, and with a frightened shriek, arms still useless, she kicked it as hard as she could - her foot sank into it a little bit before it was launched, half-squashed, back toward the larger crowd. Pylea cheered and followed suit, running after the ones that got past their protector to boot like footballs with feet of their own.<br/><br/>Endlessly they fought back against the onslaught - and endless was a good word for it, because while the froglings couldn't get them down, neither did their ever seem to be any less of them. Ember was panting, her lungs burning with the cold air she was drawing deep into her lungs, when she whirled to find... no froglings. At least, none running at her or the others. The nasty little creatures seemed to have drawn back, forming a thickly chittering circle around them as she and Pylea both panted for breath, and Hannibal trod heavily back and forth, streaked with red and slime alike on what should have been pristine fur.<br/><br/>"What... are they... doing?" Ember asked helplessly, watching as the crowd hopped and chittered, and then parted like a lump of butter around a hot knifeblade, clearing a pathway into the swirling storm. There was no freedom that way, it seemed... before she even saw something, Ember sort of<em>felt</em>that there was something there, hidden by the eternal storm. Swallowing hard, her arms half-numb and twisting in the rough bindings, she edged closer to Hannibal, staring. Waiting.