[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia's sharpness of focus returned after she'd spent three or four seconds just breathing, and she whipped around immediately to begin the hunt for the weakened link of chain once again. They'd never get through this thing while the chain lasted, and they had limited vitality and resources--and limited tolerance to such horrendously painful and traumatic experiences, too, lest they end up like Gerlinde. She began a light jog, eager to more fully recover her stamina and have the manoeuvrability needed to actually dodge whatever the beast would get up to next. This was her first experience in combat as a true Hunter, one armed with the right tools and companions, and in her mind's eye it was very much like a rhythm, or a dance, or a game--there was a flow, and there was strategy. There was a back and forth to it that could be observed and learned and performed, an art that fused the best parts of insight and beasthood--two things that Ophelia understood as being at the opposite ends of a spectrum.

She sometimes wondered why the sheer terror of it didn't grip her, like it had Torquil. She realised in hindsight that she was the one who was aberrant in that instance, that his fear was truly very much justified--for results required experience. There was always a price to pay in doing the act. Then she saw the little motes of moonlight, and she knew she was bathed in a sheath of Mother Moon's light: enough to reveal that which she sought, but not so bright as to be obvious. Obfuscating in all of the most beneficial ways, and revealing too--like the flow of power through the chain. She began moving towards it immediately and with extreme focus, keeping herself at the fastest pace she could while still recovering her energy, which resulted in her circling clockwise around the twin beasts.

"The Chain!" She called out again, wanting to impress upon them the urgency of the task but without the breath to spare them more than those two words.