Sputtering with indignation but still too weak to do much more than pound War Scribe's back ineffectually, Zak found herself again dumped on the ground, this time in a grove of trees. Her eyes narrowed as she found herself both jealous and impressed by War scribe's newfound ability to transport not one, but two people this far.
"I'm FINE!" she shrieked, sitting up and dusting herself off. "What do you mean by all this? And--oh, no! My book! Scribe, you've left MY book behind! Take me back there immediately!" She knew there wasn't a snowball's chance on the Plains of Fire that Scribe would listen to her, but she couldn't help saying it anyway.
Looking at the approaching Drow, Zak felt a chilling terror grab her heart-- she hadn't seen so many since that time in the Underdark, and it was hard not to recollect the experience. Still, she put on a defiant face and straightened her crumpled sari self-consciously. "My Dear Little Sister," she said sweetly to War Scribe, "So anxious to get me healed? I didn't know you cared so...." She didn't spit out what she was REALLY thinking- that War Scribe couldn't kill her herself, but would certainly enjoy watching what a bunch of Drow would do to her....perhaps she would set a NEW record, and hit a third death in the same day...?
