As much as Vanahara hated to admit it, the tavern was a lost cause. Years of spilled drinks had made the wooden structure even more flammable than it should be. Vana hesitated for just a moment before growling to herself and acquiescing to the Commander's orders. She ran for the door, thankfully still unblocked due to the stream of civilians who'd fled, and managed to make it out without anything flaming fell on her.

Once she was out, she took a moment to regain her bearings, quickly buckling on her metal bracers now that she had space to breathe. Vanahara whipped around, looking for the path the Nightshade had taken while simultaneously shielding her eyes from Master Alexander's flare. There—just barely on this side of the corner, a man-shaped shadow not dispelled by the magical light. Which meant the Nightshade was nearby...

Vanahara looked up, eyes narrowing as she picked out the stars overhead. The constellations were slightly off from what she knew back home, but...often, in the faceless and shifting desert landscape, the only reliable map one had was the stars. Vana was practiced at this, at least—which meant she'd be able to find her way back here, if all else failed.

"Ling's in trouble," she said shortly to anyone who could hear before running perpendicular to the street and disappearing into an alleyway. She'd seen something of the layout of the village as they'd flown in, and it seemed to be a basic wheel shape, circular streets with spokes in between, and it was more of a hamlet, really. If she could cut off the enemy Nightshade...she might just be able to get the town's valuables back.