She stays close, holding her fire now, as she only has the one magazine, and she's kicking herself for not grabbing another two or three.

The behemoth of a scorpion casts about for the source of the movement, and the growing swarm of smaller (Ha! They're the size of dogs!) scorpions is giving chase. The behemoth turns towards them, and the snap of its claws is so loud, it rings in the canyon.

Her voice is no longer a whisper. She tries to sound cool and collected, but he can hear the edge of panic in her voice. "Ichabod, lay down some fire will you. Make him think twice?"