Ciri doesn't question it; now isn't the time. She doesn't try to explain she isn't from here (and hasn't entirely caught on yet that he isn't either), but she's a bit more used to meeting people from different worlds than most. She's also no stranger to battles, and not foolish enough to try to hold any sort of in-depth conversation in the middle of one. Whatever Horde he's decided they're both part of, all she really cares about is getting out in one piece -- and if they can help a few of the villagers on the way, even better.

"If you say so," she agrees again with a noise that sounds almost like a laugh, though not a rude one. The earnestness is charming, even if they don't seem to be exactly on the same page in all the details. At least where it matters, though, they're in sync enough.

Once again, Ciri dodges the spatter of the plant, moving with amazing swiftness for a human -- though not the magical kind. She finds she can't do that anymore.

"'fraid not. Are you supposed to be? Something wrong with your magic?"