Anora’s hounds hesitated when the woman—the monster, alien, demon, [i]whatever[/i] she was—did not immediately try to defend or attack. Anora had had no idea what to expect from the… thing, but [i]talking[/i] had not been among her considered possibilities.
	She squared her jaw at the woman’s question about Darsby’s need for her.
	“No,” she lied, a tinge of her surprise at chatting instead of fighting marring the harshness in her tone. “I was just convenient.” Her hounds pawed at the ground with Anora’s uncertainty at the situation.
	She snorted at Ahllasta's hypothetical question of helping to get Darsby out of there. She glanced to Darsby’s bloodied, lifeless form. A chunk of plaster fell from the dent the woman had put in the wall from slamming him into it.
	“I’d call you a liar,” she spat. The hounds snapped their teeth in unison at her last word. She dared a glance to where the first intruder had gone. He could be calling for backup, or cleanup. Or worse, depending on what ‘the Call’ was.
	She didn’t have time for this. She could feel the draw on her energy from keeping the hounds solid, but she didn’t dare let them fade. Not yet. But if there was even a slight chance of making escaping alive easier, she had to take it.
	“Why would you help me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She suppressed a shudder as she met Ahllasta's gaze. She didn't trust those eyes.