The diminutive dancing girl writhed as the vampire held her aloft with ease.  It shouldn't have been possible but the vampire was anything but natural.  The helplessness, the terror washed through the dancer as her toes struggled to reach the floor.  She was helpless, like a babe held aloft and she could not do a thing to save herself.  She was going to die.  This was it, a victim of an almost negligent killer. 

The dancing girl grunted as she was thrown casually aside like a boring toy in the hands of a toddler that had just been distracted by something brighter and shinier.  She took one clumsy step as she worked to regain her balance but she was a dancer, trained as such from a very young age.  She recovered near instantly and just before she hit the wall.  Still, she struck it anyways, sliding down the wall and crumpling into a small ball.

From there she peered out carefully behind a screen of ebony tresses.  When the vampire turned her attention to the others she sprinted once more for the doorway.  Her thoughts were a whirl.  She had been marked.  She understood that and she understood killers far better than most.  She had to do something.  She slipped through, finding herself in an empty kitchen, the hearth blazing.  Food was burning on the grill, the cauldron boiling, but no one was attending to them.  They'd fled through the open doorways, either out towards the stables or into the field behind.  She needed to get to her vardo wagon.