"No. But I might be able to slow it down."

Raistlin blesses Horkin and his wretched stick and the hours of bruises as he raises his eyes to the creature pursuing them and focuses his will. His mind quiets, despite the discomfort, the jouncing, and the strange view. One hand clutches her armor; the other raises up, ready to cast.

"If I can distract it for a moment, can you get us to safety?"