Totoka River On the sandy coast, windswept

Saena glanced overhead once more, inadvertently placing one pale eye in a locust's line of flight. It pattered against her eyelid and she started and squinted, then irately turned her jaws to snap at the offending insect. She missed it by a hair's breadth.

"There are signs of it still in these lands," said Saena, who assumed the ridge she currently settled with her wolves was another example of a tornado's impressive strength. But she neither invited Rexxar to see it nor expected him to go seeking it, even as he said he would prefer a tornado to the current swirling vortex of locusts.

"Are you nuts?" asked Saena with a note of disbelief in her voice and a nervous shift of her form. It wasn't hard to tell she was personally affected by Rexxar's perceived nonchalance about tornadoes, though she ought not to have been. Just moments ago, he'd said he didn't want to see one. "Tornadoes destroy your home. These are gross, but... they're just bugs. They don't even bite hard." Naturalists everywhere would be ashamed to know Saena was once one of them, for the lasting destruction to foliage and the consequences of it passed her by completely.