Amelia's been on high alert since sunset. She whips around when the cold burst brushed her back, ready to jump away, but she can't avoid those first swipes. The shade's claws rake her left arm from shoulder to elbow. She screeches in pain and flaps her wings. Too shocked and hurt to muster up wind magic, but flapping alone is enough to create gusts.

She didn't consider an attack from behind, but she's not unprepared. Still flapping, Amelia reaches for a lighter in her back, flicks it on and shoves it at Stocke's body.