Aza was sprawled on her back in the dirt, her paws continuing to swim weakly at the air. Her thick red fur had been wet; now it was caked with sand, too. Whimpering pathetically, she opened her eyes to squint upside-down at one of the men who had landed nearby. He looked just fine, like he fell out of towers through malfunctioning spellfields every day. In fact, he maybe looked<em>better</em>than he had a moment ago. Obviously uninjured. And taller? Maybe it just seemed that way from down here. She had no way of knowing who utilized the energy flowing from her, or for what. All she could tell was things had gotten bright and then dark and just generally fucked up, and now she felt like she'd been volleyed like a ball and dropped on her head from a half story height.<br/><br/>The drow beside her made a funny noise and cursed, and Aza fell over onto her side, hoping the woman was close enough to bite. She was not. The leash was slack, so the fox hauled herself to her feet and began to stagger through the rubble, the collar tossing off the occasional flash but without any accompanying energy leak. The other man -- who seemed to have fared better than the drow, though not as fortunately as his too-tall partner -- was saying something about the harbor.<em>No, no, no,</em>Aza thought loudly again, before sneezing a cloud of dust so forcefully she nearly tipped over. Harbors meant ships, which meant cages in dark smelly holds and rolling stomachs and only fish to eat. She tried to howl, to let the guards who were surely coming know she was there and still alive and so were these three uncouth thieves, but her throat was dry and scratched with sand and she only sneezed again, wheezing.