Two down, three to go. Sacora backed herself away a few paces from the two bandits whom she had just lashed out at, coming to a standstill between them. Then one of those bandits fingered something in his pocket, to which Sacora responded with an angry whiplash of fire that burned his arm. He screamed out in pain and, enraged, he reached into the pocket with his other hand and threw a small, dark plum-shaped object at her. She dodged, but then it hit the ground and engulfed her in a thick cloud of smoke.
Smoke bombs! That was what they were. Sacora quickly lifted the collar of her shirt over her mouth and nose, in case the smoke was the sort to make you faint. It was a rather pitiable measure against one who could command fire such as Sacora, but it had succeeded in stunning her for a little bit with the element of surprise. She crouched low and made a sweeping arc of fire with her foot, illuminating the smoke around her and effectively catching fire to one of the thieve's pants. The other one, who came up behind her, received a coincidentally placed elbowing to the groin when Sacora rose back to her feet.
Ignoring him, Sacora ran to where the smoke was less thick. It was beginning to dissipate by this time, thanks to a favorable breeze. When she came out, she released her shirt collar and then stopped dead in her tracks as she was greeted with a most shocking sight. The third bandit had withdrawn a gold decorated dagger and rushed towards Beowulf with it, stabbing him repeatedly in the back.
Sacora was beside herself with fury. Suddenly, the fear of burning down the forest was gone. She whirled around to the two bandits who had been harassing her--the smoke was almost nil by then--and unleashed upon them the biggest bursts of fire she could summon with her hands, aiming particularly for their faces. The flame that had eaten at one of their pants, which he had stomped out, came back at once to consume every article of clothing. The fallen leaves around them also burned, biting at their feet and leaving no inch of them unsafe. All this fire illuminated the space where they stood, shining like a big bonfire on a feast night.
She then ran towards Beowulf's attacker and tackled into him sideways just as he was about to make another stab. "You wretch!" she screamed with so much passion and rage it was hard to believe she could possess. The both of them fell to the ground, the bandit momentarily stunned by falling on his back.