Before she could cross the threshold, the gale returned in even greater force, this time seemingly coming from outside the ruins. A wall of icy wind stopped her dead in her tracks, and try as she might to keep her footing, the wind swirled about her like a cyclone in miniature, sweeping up the broken furniture and flotsam strewn about. She attempted to shield her head in her arms, but when a stray piece of wood slammed into her gut, she was knocked off her feet. Her cry of pain was lost to the roar of the wind as it snatched her up as well in its hungry jaws, bearing her backwards through the hall and down the corridor she had just fled from.<br/><br/>For one brief moment, she caught sight of her poor little fire fighting valiantly against the wind, but before she could try to reach it, a massive iron hand, seemingly materializing from the shadows, grabbed her like a child's toy. Letting out a shout that was equal parts anger and terror, she thrashed and fought in the thing's grip, heedless of the way those armored digits threatened to crush her to bits. With a thunderous noise, her fire was snuffed out by a platemetal boot, plunging her into total, frigid darkness. The wind continued to howl, but the noise was dimmer now, as if she and the towering figure holding her were cocooned within it. Liirah squirmed in its grip, trying in vain to get ahold of the knife at her belt, but it was futile. Panting, she looked upwards, trying to discern any hint of a face in the shadows above her.<b> "What <i>are</i> you?!"</b>she shouted once more, her voice now grown hoarse. Despite the embers of fight still left in her, there was no disguising the fear that now dripped from her voice.