"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

The Begger's screech pierced the air. Miranda froze deathly still, grasping her shoulder for dear life. She fell down to her knees, pain coursing through her body. When she turned her head, examining the wound, she saw that it had a puncture wound; likely from something huge and round. The girl looked around in a panic, trying to see who had inflicted such an injury on her. There was nothing to be found.

"What...the...hell?!" She said throught gritted teeth, not even bothering to care how blasphemous she sounded. The troop helped her back to her feet, looking just as shocked as she felt.

"Miranda, what happened?!" Claude demanded. "Did one of the cross-bolts-"

"No," she said, voice shaking. "There was...nothing. Nothing hit me..."

This had to be the witch's magic, she knew it. Something was eating her up inside, or destroying her in the most painful way possible. She shuddered in fear, hyperventilating steadily.

But she did catch something else. The fight that had broken out, not one street down, had resulted in her time-honored enemy's own pride. As she turned her head, she saw that a large cross-bolt had snugly buried itself into his shoulder. Her mind conjured back the image of the five puncture wounds on his other shoulder, in the same place she was in.

"No..." she mumbled. "No...no no no no-!"