The word is [i]lucky.[/i]

Whether motivated by what havoc her double may wreak if set free, an instinct to preserve her own life, or blind panic at pain and asphyxiation, Jackdaw fights back. Or, no, not quite fights. She can’t fight...she can’t fight this. No, she flails. She tosses her limbs about with reckless abandon, a total disregard for form or strategy, and in the chaos a foot catches her double square in the chest.

The reflection sputters, a name dying on their lips as the wind is knocked from their lungs. Without thinking, their grip loosens. Just for a moment.

Wolf [i]pounces,[/i] surging forward in a river of lean muscle and adrenaline, dragging a startled fox in her wake. Direction? Destination? The strangled coughs of her passenger? All ignored. She was wholly devoted to the task of putting as much distance between themselves and the mirror, and all the rest would  have to wait.

Jackdaw skids along the ground, curled up in a ball away, away from the cruel mirrors. Burned and gasping and eyes shut tight against the world, because maybe if she couldn’t see any of it, it might not be real. It wasn’t her best idea, but then again, she’d not had many good ones lately.

None of the three would notice the patch missing from Jackdaw’s sleeve, still fluttering in the mirror.

Not yet, anyway.

[That’s a [b]7[/b] on Overcome, choosing a temporary solution.]