The shadowmire’s ears twitched, and irritation flashed in the beast’s eyes—rather, the Queen’s watchful enchantment—when Miles’ called out to it. It’s tail flicked as if to lash at him again, but it did not have time.
	Nothing could have prepared Elayra for the earsplitting ring of the gunshots. She gasped and covered her ears as the confined space amplified the noise.
	The shadowmire yowled in pain when Miles’ bullets hit their target, its volume contending with the bang of the gun. It shook its head violently, its body thrashing about and sending sprays of rain from its fur and scales.
	Elayra ducked and sidestepped to avoid its tail as the beast spun toward miles with an almost metallic, feline roar, but her attention snapped to the portal a single lunge away from her when it flickered. She inhaled and glanced between Miles and the shadowmire, and the portal.
	“Sorry, Miles,” she muttered as the beast’s scaly segments scrunched together in preparation to pounce at the current greater threat.
	Saliva strung over its sharp teeth as it bore its impossible number of wicked teeth at the gun-wielding man. It kept one eye closed, thick blood dripping down from its corner to soak the fur of its face. Its tail shot in front of it, both a distraction and attempt at disarming him again. 
	“Keep it angry,” she shouted at Miles as she stepped sideways toward the portal, unsure if the usual tactics would work with the Red Queen backing the creature up, “and you keep it stupid!” With that, she jumped into the swirling portal as it flickered again.
	The moment she stepped through, the magic of the portal let out a final, long pulse, like the last weary moan of the dying. It sucked together into its glowing crack, but even that snuffed itself out like an eye closing for the last time.
	As if it sensed that the portal—and its desired prey—had vanished, the shadowmire let out another howl. An almost feminine, human air mingled eerily with it, before its injured body sunk into a pool of shadows that raced away over the walls and to the rooftops.
	In the alley, a scrap of dirtied, brown fabric stuck out from the dead-end where the portal had been: a small scrap of Elayra’s dress that had not quite made it through. A scrap that created the only solid evidence that the Wonerlander had roamed the streets of Earth.