Rory, Forest Oasis. 
Why am... I even here?
Somewhere beyond his range of vision, a toad croaked its indifference to him. It did not care that he dwelt nearby. He was no threat. No, none at all, not when laying face-up in the cool, shallow water. It drifted in and out of his clothes, lifting the salt-and-pepper pelt from his skin and bringing it to sway in time with the movement of the pool. It was not that Micah did not care that he was soaked to the skin with toad-dwelling pond water that he lay there, limbs extended, body motionless. It was not that he was hot from the weather to the point that he needed to be cooled down. It was not that he was bored, or lost, or troubled.
No, actually, Micah had tripped some time ago and toppled in, and his obsessive-compulsive fear of the lake's countless germs and infestation had literally paralyzed the poor idiot to the point that he could not actually move.
He squinted his eyes closed. God, I'm so stupid. The water in his ears was bringing a slow headache into his brain. Surely he would be sick from all this exposure. Surely he might even grow warts like a toad itself, or develop some sort of nasty rash, or in the least never find a way to wash out the reek of pond water in his fur. The ghostly Storm Lily gave him no peace over the matter, and though chocolate eyes watched her white-washed visage float back and forth over her features with red in her phantom eyes, the male oddly found himself thankful for his ears immersed and unable to hear her insults and scoldings.
What does it matter, anyway? he thought to himself, eyes rolling away. I'm going to get sick, and maybe I won't pull through. I won't get a chance to kill him if I'm dead.
He sneezed, then froze up once more, feeling the line of the water along the sides of his face. Oh God, I'm going to die here, aren't I? His stomach twisted and turned, disgusted and upset as if he were actually mortally wounded — which, of course, he was not. He was not even bleeding. He did not even have the tiniest cut on his smallest finger.
Ah, but such were the mundane trials and tribulations of a germaphobic coward and his ghostly sister.
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