Brinn was trapped in an internal battle. As her body struggled to regain her energy, something was steadily draining it away as fast as she could recover. She was trapped in that place between awake and asleep, where one could hear what was going on around them, and sense that things were happening or someone had come close, but none of it made sense. She heard the words uttered by the knight, felt the sun on her skin and the earth beneath her, but the sensations were filtered through a cloudy dream state that left everything surreal.<br/><br/>She was aware of being moved, and dimly recognized the smell of the knight when he carried her to the cart, then felt the hard, flat surface of wood beneath her. It was all so muggy and strange. She fought and fought against it, trying desperately to wake, but found the task impossible. When she was left to lie in the cart, and felt the world begin to move, jolt, and jostle around her, the fear she felt gave her the strength enough to overcome.<br/><br/>Her eyes peeled open and she saw the boxes and bags before her that she recognized as having been in her cart. Her head ached and her eyes burned at the light, but other than that she was pain free. Yet still, something pulled at her. When the cart hit a particularly sharp bump, her head bounced on the crate she was leaning on, and a new sight came into view. The thief. Anger stirred within her at the sight, lending her a small measure of increased clarity. The thief was there, crouched in a strange posture, which she held perfectly without moving. Her skin glistenned strangely, and she was oddly tinted blue.<br/><br/>Finally, the thoughts clicked into place that the thief was hexed with an ice cage. It was a simple, spell, really, but it required a steady flow of power to maintain the constant production and regeneration of ice to keep up the cage. In the thief's hand was still clutched the lid of the crate she had been trying to get into. The lid was square, wooden, and fairly large, but what made it remarkable was the side that had been inside the box. There were runes scribed here in a chalky substance. As she watched with detatched, fading concentration, the runes pulsed with power. The pulse of light fed through the runes, visibly channeling into the ice that trapped the thief. This pulse repeated every five seconds, constantly feeding into the ice. Every time it did, she felt her energy fade. The anger and fear she'd felt that had allowed her to wake was quickly eaten away.<br/><br/>With a last desperate attempt to free herself, she seized onto the panic she felt, and shoved with her hands. She succeeded in sitting up, wobbled slightly, then reached her hand toward the lid. If only she could scrape a rune, or pull it free... she would be able to break the connection. There was another pulse and this time, it hit her like a sack of bricks.<br/><br/>Everything when black, and she went limp, sprawling onto the boxes, with one arm still extended toward the iced thief.