Before the command is even on his lips, Kerrigan responds to Raistlin forming the thought to utter it. She breaks hard to the right, almost backtracking, towards the tree she'd marked a second ago. It's an oak—not that she knows what that is—its trunk studded with burls and its branches as thick as respectable trees themselves. She plants a booted foot on one of those burls, gloved hands in turn catching at the spot where one of those branches joins the trunk, and she all but jumps into the tree, letting her legs do the work (and making at least a token effort at keeping Raistlin's face from picking up a bad case of bark burn.)

Convincing gravity to relent long enough to get them off the ground and into the camouflage of the foliage is the tricky part. Kerrigan is starting to show signs that the exertion is telling on her, breath coming hard. It turns into a gasp when their combined weight hits her arms and she has to haul them the last little way into the tree with only her own strength to call on. Why aren't her psionics working? She could have outdistanced the smoke creature easily with the enhancement circuitry in her armor.

As it is, she gets both feet onto a branch and pulls herself upright with a hand on the trunk, scanning for her next move. The low branch is so thick it might as well be an extension of the trunk, and it slopes off towards the forest canopy at a gentle enough grade that Kerrigan gets an idea.

Yeah, she's sprinting down the length of that branch like she thinks she's a wood elf.