Anora gasped and took a couple stumbling steps back when Ahllasta addressed her, the woman’s voice taking on a new inhuman depth. Anora's breath caught in her lungs. With her attention completely on Ahllasta, her remaining hound flickered out of existence, melting into nothingness.
	The deadly strength and prowess of the beast-of-a-woman pressed down over her. The oppressive aura radiating from Ahllasta made the beastly woman appear more than twice her normal size.
	 Anora’s heart hammered against her ribs as if frantic to escape the woman’s ire, the mist at her hands trembling with her fingers. She did her best to still their quivering, not wanting to show weakness to a predator. That’s what this woman was: a predator. A relentless hunter. 
	Anora tried to swallow at Ahllasta’s thunderous question.
	She knew. Somehow, the woman knew—or perhaps guessed—her magic was limited. Or she had read her mind, as Darsby had.
	Either way, nearly every fiber of Anora’s being screamed at her to back down. That this was one she couldn’t win in a million years, no matter how determined she was. Only a small, quiet defiance egged her to not give in, to not tuck her tail between her legs and simply surrender.
	She glanced to Darsby still slung over Ahllasta’s shoulder. Her hands clenched. She couldn’t help him if she was unconscious… or dead.
	Resentfully, she hesitantly let the last of her mist fizzle out. The glow of her eyes extinguished alongside it. Gaze dropping to Ahllasta’s feet, she jerked her head toward the stairs, indicating for Ahllasta to lead on.
	Ready to follow after the woman if she continued on her way to the car, Anora kept her gaze on the ground. It made it easier that way. She took a few breaths, trying to remind her lungs how to properly work. She’d have to be smart about this.
	She tried to swallow, but her mouth still felt dry. Her heart pounded in her throat. 
	“You realize,” she began after a moment, her words unintentionally quiet, “going with us will mean you can’t chase after him,” she tried, taking a shot in the dark and hoping the thought would put off someone like Ahllasta. The woman had, after all, been angry about her partner shooting Darsby down. A quick kill without time to ‘make good on her grudge.’ “There’d be no hunt. You’d know where he is. What weapons he has. It’d be equivalent to hunting a tiger in a cage. I don’t see the glory or satisfaction in that.”