She streaks across the room, lamplight reflecting off her scaly skin. I fling my arms into position and feel the prickly warmth of the bow and arrow as they materialize in my hands. I pull back and let go. The arrow zooms across the room in a shower of orange-gold sparks, finding its mark in the woman's shoulder.
She cries out and stumbles, but doesn't fall. She twists her head in my direction and her black eyes find mine before she whispers, "It's happening already."