People are hiding, are trying to skirt open spaces, and like the jariliths she surrounds herself with at home, Caedra watches the edges for movement. Edges of her vision, edges of roads and buildings - each little flicker is tantalizing. She hears breathing and footsteps as someone dashes past and her only thought is to chase and kill.

This one is familiar, as she bolts after him and realizes momentarily later who it is. Yes, this frightened little thing has skittered around her before. Verbally, if not physically, but it's no shock to see him running. With a hiss of breath and a chanted phrase, she casts. A hex, aiming to slow him down and keep him from slipping away. There are so many to kill, and time spent missing with her sword is time wasted.

"Pratt!" she calls out after, her voice more of a snarl than usual. "Where do you think you're going?"