Before she can tumble backwards, hands meet her back and she is whisked off her feet! It's not her first time being picked up without forewarn, but this rush in the air as they fly is new. A small "woah!" escapes Clara's throat without much thought.

The reflection of herself is out of the mirror now, a puddle of water where it escaped. And it's looking for her, as if she moved so fast it couldn't discern where she ended up.

Clara turns to look at her savior. And unlike other children who might flinch at his appearance, Clara's eyes only widen in shock for a second before they turn curious. The wings are what she parses first, the sheer enormity of them. The horns second, the concerned look third. Oh-- he asked her a question.

"No, I'm okay." She smiles softly. "Thank you."