Elayra glowered at Ghent at his explanation. “You couldn’t think of [i]anything[/i] better? After all,” she smirked as she continued, “you’re more the ‘damsel in distress’ in this equation.”  
	She gave a snorting, mocking laugh at him shooting bolts of lightning. “You were trying to make a [i]shield.[/i] Not lightning bolts. That’s what we would call a successful failure. Or perhaps a failed success.” A smug smile spread over her lips when she noticed him rubbing his arm where she had hit him. She gave a sigh as the expression turned to a frown. [i]The guy can’t even take a punch.[/i]
	When he finished answering her questions, she placed a hand on her hip. “Portal magic’s practically impossible to control. Supposedly, only their original creators could force them to move. And I have no idea where the others are here, or how to locate them.”
	She glanced down the street, her foot tapping impatiently against the pavement. They needed to get back to Wonderland, even if that meant going through these ‘cops.’
	“[i]Excuse me?[/i]” she growled when he blamed her and Drust for the Shadowmire’s appearance and the situation at hand. “We didn’t [i]bring[/i] them!” She took a threatening step toward him. “And [i]you’re[/i] the one who suggested the storeroom! If we hadn't been here, I’d bet my bow they’d have picked up your scent and attacked. No matter how long you’ve been here, you’re still a Wonderlander. And where do you think you’d be if we [i]haden’t[/i] been there, and dealt with them somewhere deserted, huh, Featherhead?” She jabbed a finger angrily at his chest, and answered her own question without giving Ghent the chance to speak. “Dead,” she drew her thumb across her throat, “that’s where! You and everyone unlucky enough to get in their way! That’s how they work. How the [i]Red Sorceress[/i] works.” She spat the title, hatred flashing in her gray eyes. Her fingers balled into a fist as she returned her hand to her side and continued. “They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”
	Elayra took a heated breath and turned her back to Ghent, putting a couple feet between them and glaring murderously at the ground. “She doesn’t care how many people she has to hurt or kill to keep her reign,” she added quietly, bitterly, her voice nearly drowned out by the patter of the rain.
	She turned back toward him at the sound of the zipper, and eyed him warily when he held his open backpack out to her. She raised her eyebrows and gave a humorless chuckle at his attempt at hiding her dagger, having no desire to be weaponless.
	“I have a bow, arrows, and a sword. Do you [i]seriously[/i] think hiding a dagger would do any good? Besides. If your ‘cops’ spot us and want to give us trouble,” she drew her saber and shifted her body so she could swinging the long blade in an impressive show without hurting Ghent, as tempting as the thought may have been. She winced slightly when the quick movements made her pack shift painfully over the bruise on her back, and her side ache slightly, but she did not falter; she stopped in a stance with the sword ready for attack, and her bow held out to her side, waiting for use as a blunt weapon, “then bring it.”