The Marauder was oddly cheerful in her gait, humming a tune as she dragged scarecrow-like figures of dried sticks and cloth to a secluded spot in the desert, close enough to the jungle. Setting them up was a fun challenge, but soon she had three target dummies ready to be zapped or burnt. Her wings fluttered gently, and her fur sparked as she stared at the center dummy.

An image flashed in her mind, a memory long dead, and a powerful bolt of lightning pierced the air from just before her chest. She let out a loud huff and hunched over slightly, and stared at the mark that the lightning bolt had left. A proud smile was on her face as she stared at the sizzling dummy. "Not bad."