The scream doesn't divert her attention; her focus is still fixed on the creature as it gasps and struggles to snap at her with its jaws, as she stabs it again, decisively, and finally feels it give beneath her. She stays where she is for a moment, breathing heavily, then finally turns to look. Greta is there, stricken but unharmed, bent down to hold onto her dog. It's only at the question that Anne realizes she must look a mess, and she looks down at herself, not exactly self-conscious, but remembering Greta's not used to this much blood. She feels a distant pang of guilt, alarming her like this, distressing her dog, but it's already done, and there ain't much she can do about it now.

"Yeah," she says; killing those things takes effort, but if you're smart it's easy not to get hurt. She wipes her swords along her already-sullied coat, twice each for both sides of the blades, and then sheathes them before looking back at Greta. "Are you?"