Lauralae has lived decades alone in the wilderness; she knows how to hunt and she knows what it means to be hunted at the same time. There's something sharp and dangerous about her as she moves, her eyes dancing over the creature in front of her before she shifts forward, seeing it disappear. Magic, the kind she is not as familiar with, and she breathes in sharply before she begins to listen.

The voice in her mind alerts her - Behind!

Jerking forward, she presses herself down into the ground, pressing, burying herself into the dirt and the grass before she, too, transforms. The small, lithe shape of Lauralae transforms into a wolf, fur on edge, teeth bared as she turns, sharp, to twist and look back at the other creature.

There's no hesitation, at least, as she gazes back, growling. She manages to duck down enough to avoid the attack, she hopes, but she can feel how the hands almost scraped over her, leaving her wiggling to get herself back into a position where she will not be weak again.