This time, whether it be thanks to the distraction or to the blow right between the faerie woman's ribs, your "little flaming sword" seems to get a lot more of her attention, sending her sprawling to the ground and crying out in rage and pain- and still, even in spite of the deadly wound, what seems a small amount of pleasure.<br/><br/>"Insssolent mortal!" she cries, forcing herself up to her feet even as her hands- and vines- rise in a sign of supplication. "I yield- I can not protect my missstress' heart if I am dead- but I will not sssuffer you to touch Winter's Heart. If you will leave thisss place, I will...*groan* grant you a True Gift."<br/><br/>