[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/RQaJfun.png[/img][h1][b][color=B22222]C L A R A[/color][/b][/h1][hr][b][color=gray]IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS[/color][/b][/center][hr]
Fragments of red scattered around Clara, and another agonising scream left her body. Her back was planted to the grass now, arms laying limp at her sides and all semblance of ether control gone. Had her crystal been a second slower, her left forearm — which had taken the brunt of the attack — would've been more than a little broken.

The vine rose up, readying itself for another strike. Clara couldn't move. Only the sound and sensation of her quickening breaths were keeping her consciousness from being sucked into the soil.

Then the vine came down again. Even in her last ditch effort to channel ether into her working arm, there was no way she would be fast enough. Clara couldn't take another hit.

But then the hit never came.

The vine was sliced in two like a knife to butter, crashing into the undergrowth just metres away. Even when smaller vines dove in to resume the attack, they would never reach her; something was shielding her body. Then some[i]one[/i] grabbed Clara and pulled her up so fast that it took what little control she had left over herself to not be sick again. It was Etoile. 

Clara met the woman's frantic gaze. Grey eyes, like the sky in a raging summer storm, she remembered from when they were on the barge. Back when Etoile had told her to leave her be, when her cloak had slipped and the sunlight caught her metal arm, when she blasted the carriage door open with one of her wind spells in front of the passengers. 

Upon looking down and seeing Etoile's muddied inquisitor uniform, the first thing Clara did was shove the woman away.

Clara eyed Etoile in that moment, silently, cautiously, as if the slightest movement would invite death by the woman's sword. Her breath stuck to her throat and her entire world came to a complete still. If her jaw were to clench any harder, she was certain it would break.

A sting of pain from her fractured arm stunned Clara back to reality, and she quickly looked away. With a weak pull of the sash around her waist, she tried wrapping the fabric over her arm to bind it. She hissed and cursed and hissed curses whenever she tugged too hard, though it was apparent she wasn't doing it hard enough if it was still hanging loose like that.

In her delirium Clara felt another pain, a different pain, as she saw the vines swarm Pagonia and Zestasia. Now her chest was starting to ache.

[b]"[color=B22222]Etoile… The kid, you…[/color]"[/b] she spluttered through ragged breaths, refusing to meet Etoile's eyes as she continued fiddling with her sorry attempt for a bandage. [b]"[color=B22222]You have to get the kid.[/color]"[/b]