A shallow grave..

The Professor will wake up with a start in a shallow grave with an unmarked tomb stone above him. 3ft down he discovers that his body is lying prone with his shoes full of black sand and shallow cut from neck to navel.. His last memory was him and Tara huddling together on the strange distant shore surrounded by violet glowing seas, an endless horizon of unfamiliar constellations stretching on into infinity above them.. His shirt is missing and his belly is covered in blood from the cut. However other than the shallow line traced along his torso, Professor Longfellow's other injuries have miraculously vanished.

Tiny feminine fingernail marks are pressed into his hand from where she was clinging to him, but other than those tiny indentations there is no trace left that the girl had ever existed at all.

He suddenly realized that somehow that she had sent him back and had given him a new lease on life.

The stillness surrounds him but he can still feel the ocean from another place washing over him in purple waves of sorrow. The grave bothers him but he cannot focus; his experience has been all too real. Words come to him from another time...

"Ia, Ia, Ph'nmglowi. Er, erm, eh, em. Yes."

He stands slowly. His age shows on his face and in his movements as he searches for meaning in the creak of his joints.

"I suppose I have failed. Or perhaps she succeeded. Perhaps I'll never know."

There is no one to greet him as he pulls himself out of the grave. The aches and pains have departed and have been replaced by raw fear of the fierce weather. The hurricane is still coming and the trees groan and creak from the powerful winds. Its likely that if the professor doesn't find shelter soon, all of Tara's hard work might have been for not.

In the distance a large tree branch collapses and crushes a handful of tombstones beneath it. Rocks and rubble form the memorial stones splinter out beneath the errant limb. A fork tongue of lightning streaks across the dark grey clouds above and is instantly chased by loud roaring thunder. The light from the nearby lightning strike blinds him for but a moment before he regains his bearings and command of his senses...

Spring time leaves race through the storm winds and pelt the poor professor's face as his tie flaps up and smacks him repeatedly. Its as if the storm itself is trying to divest him of his fine jacket and glasses. With great haste he makes his way to the exit as Professor Longfellow thinks of a destination.

The weather assaults him, batters him, and swiftly leaves him numb and near panic... or it should. He focuses his mind, seeking the nearest shelter and swiftly trying to peace together a plan.

"Fragments. All fragments. I can't quite piece it. Blast. And Double blast this cursed storm."

He knows he's been rattled. His mind is equal parts detached and disaffected. He starts to tromp through the coming wind with military precision, all the while hoping that whatever he finds will be good enough and hoping that his home is still intact.

In the corner of his mind eyes he sees a small female figure in a ratty knit shawl. Her face obscured and her small frame partially obscured in shadows. The second he turns toward the phantom image she vanishes into thin air...

He staggers away to safety. More trials surely lie ahead this night...