Wrath smells his wife's blood as soon as they make it to their destination. The gold of his eyes takes in the wound immediately, and his expression shifts to one of pure hunger and need for blood to be spilled in turn - the sound that leaves him is more monstrous than any noise this creature might make. It is unclear if this metallic creature can be made to bleed, however. They will find a way to hurt it one way or another.

His wife's whips wrap around the creature as it attempts to bury itself in the sand again. Its moves are clear: smart. It cannot be targeted under the sand, and it can continue to surprise its opponents with an attack from below. Thankfully, the vines and those wide, sharp thorns do their job, sinking into the creature's body further as it tries to wriggle out of them to bury itself again.

Its claws dig into the sand before it seems to realize the futility of this, and it lashes out with sand at them to blind them. Wrath's prepared though, throwing up a shield of ice to protect their eyes from the onslaught.

"Fire is likely to be more effective," he says - more so than ice against ice. "I'll draw its attention while you make it burn."