Quote:
Originally Posted by
xXxPandora 
The brunette, damp, even dripping all over with her pathetic short hair splattered in various directions over her face, still grasped her tree with all the strength her fingers could muster. She was like a cat now, holding on for dear life with her claws.
Yet she was losing grip...slowly...slowly...her fingers couldn't take much of the impact, it was going to let-----
KYAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!
Who in the name of Merlin's white and knee-length was pulling her leg?!! Beezus flailed, kicked, swayed with the strong wind as she tried to get rid of the ominous creature preying on her poor leg. "Lerrggoo!" she mumbled with difficulty, sand particles almost entering her mouth.
"LEMMEEEEE GOOO-----!!"
..Too late. Her clawed fingers had lost it's vigor. And she yelped as her body flew backwards, her assailant still on her heels.
AND THUD!
Her elbow hit a tree! A tree! A tree! Without any more second thoughts, her right arm swung to hug the tree! *FLAIIIIIIIIL* But someone was sharing her tree, and at the same time tugging forcibly on her robes. It was Milton! He was the leg strangler! "LegoMi'dun!LEGGOO!" She demanded, screaming, as she swallowed tiny bits of sand and rainwater.
COUGH. COUGH. That was her treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!
Milton was IN PAIN. The wind and the sand and the rain were KILLING him. And he kept getting smacked in the face with palm leaves! And why was Beezus yelling at him?!
"I'M TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!" he yelled back. JEEZ. But seeing that she was holding onto the tree, Milton let go of her robes and held onto the tree with both hands.
"DO YOU HAVE YOUR WAND?" he yelled at her. Because he had lost his in the hurricane and they NEEDED that dang protego spell or else the sand was going to sandpaper his eyes out and he was NOT okay with that!
Just then, Milton spotted a COCONUT MISSILE headed straight for Beezus' head.
"WATCH OUT!" he shouted and flung himself onto Beezus (rather heroically, I might add).
SMACK!!
The coconut smacked into Milton's skull at a million miles per hour and sent him flying backwards an into the hut where Professor Bellaire was with all the younger students. And there he laid. FLOP. Unconscious.