It is enough. There's no more fight to give and Daud will find slipping the sword between her ribs a simple enough feat. There's no leather or chainmail to bypass, no in this form. Just fur and bone and sinew and then it's done, the shiftling only squirming weakly in protest at the pain of the blade going through, then the last ounces of life run out, she stills, and Deirdre falls apart into dust before she can throw herself back into the air.

Billie's form doesn't change back, mostly since there is no back, necessarily. This is her as much as her human self is, and, overall, that just makes her a lighter load to haul back to the house on the edge of the City.

A house that only looks abandoned on the outside but Daud should be expecting company the second he walks in. Even if he'd stowed Red away in the basket before heading out, he has, apparently, figured a way to clamber back out all on his own. That's the problem with children, isn't it? Always learning... and, in this case, watching. There's a thump as he jumps down from a cupboard to the table near the door, immediately making little trilling noises at him. They're inquisitive for now. He hasn't immediately caught on that the dead thing over his shoulder is Billie.