As the human just about fell apart in front of her, her instincts called to her. The call was brief, suppressed by force of habit more than desire, but it was strong: The drive to kill. The chase had already been completed. The prey was at her mercy. Surely now was the time to eat this weak little meat-creature? Draconians were not known for playing with their food, like cats. Rather, much like humans, their hunts were more direct: Chase, kill, eat. However, now was not the time. Sarah's instincts proved useful to many of her former owners, but a distinction had been pained into her between the time to hunt, and the time to threaten.
<You were lying?>, Sarah hissed, shadows emerging from the ground to tear apart the shelf behind her, <... Of course you were. That's what humans do, after all.>. Bitterness had replaced rage in the Draconian's 'voice'. <I should rip your head off, if only to do the rest of the universe a favor.>, she paused, <But I won't. I don't owe the universe drek, I'm not hungry, and for once, I just don't feel like it. I'm going to go find the brakja that sold me this defective trash, and I'm going to make him tell me. If I ever see you again...>. Sarah left the thought unfinished. The human would get the point. The darkness receded as Sarah vented her frustration by forcibly directing fire magic into the shelves, then converting it into heat until she'd set the store's shelves ablaze, then slowly made her way out. It wouldn't do to be so obviously furious by the time she found her way back to the place she'd bought the defective map, if she ever found it.