Bracing herself for water, the breath is knocked from her instead when she lands in the snow, her fox on top of her to further wind her. Uttering a curse, she forces herself to breathe, vision blurring as she squints and coughs; cold, cold hard ground and she's dimly aware of her hand not being quite right but there's a hideous screeching sound and she scrambles back, hand going to her hip--

Her pistols are gone.

"Lux, back!" The fox scampers just in time as she gets up, looking for the lost pistols with an awful sinking feeling. She'd fallen in surprise, leaping between mooring poles when a sudden green glow had frightened her, fox leaping her way and her pistols are likely ruined now, lost in the waterways of Castileos.

But there's little time to think, only time to rush out of the way of the onslaught of ice, her heart hammering as she frees her rapiers in time to meet green gnarled claws, the shock of impact on her crossed blades jangling all the way up her arm to her shoulder as her blood runs cold.