As Lauralana half dosed in her seated position, Ana looks upwards towards Tristan, a bit of awe in her human eyes at being so near a Prince. "Yes your Highness.." Ana says, though she is flustered at the nearness fo royalty she does not forget her charge, bending as soon as it was clear the ogres and orcs were not going to make a last ditch effort towards the boats. A cloak is lain over the sodden elf woman, to better hide the curves the wet blouse did not quite hide any longer, one end of it raised to dab at her lip, through it all Lauralana did not stir.<br/><br/>"She has two minor cuts, otherwise she is physically fine. Magic is taxing on the mental strengths of those who wield it. Each use drains the user more, until their bodies force a rest. She will conserve what little magical energies she has left to breed more energy, but it will take time. She will be weak and tired for several hours, maybe a day or two."