Cyra waves away the fairies as they rush towards her for rescue. If the stupid things didn't have the sense to have fled as soon as they realized there was a frimbo stalking them, they were probably beyond helping. "You can flee," she tells the fairy who just had her love eaten, "Or join her. Your pick." Clearing her throat, she pads closer, wading through the cool water. "My name is Cyra. I am with the tribe not so far that way," she nods backwards toward the bustling village. "It is a nice place, partly because we keep it that way." As she continues to head nearer the frimbo, she gives the struggling fairy a long look without pity only to crack a smile as Fran extends an invitation. "As much as I am honored, I must decline. This water is rather cold, is it not?" Extending her arms to her sides, she starts to spray fire into the pond beside her; it's big enough that it takes time to start perceptibly warming up. "I have always been more comfortable with hot baths than cold, you see," Cyra explains, keeping eye contact with the frimbo.