The claws come at her. It's instinct that takes over more than anything else - a hand going down for her knife, stepping back to get out of his reach -

Stepping back. The problem is that there isn't anything behind her. The ball of her foot hits flat stone, but the heel drops out into nothingness - and she stands, teetering on the arch of her right foot, the left jutting into the air, inscribing circles as it tries to help her find her balance and to help her find her balance forward. But gravity wins; with a shriek issuing from her mouth, she starts to tip backwards, into the emptiness that leads to the harbor a deadly distance below.