She started off well, flying forward, sweeping past anything in her path with ease. Sometimes she slipped between forms, small parts or her water body splashing against the cobblestone, unintentionally leaving a trail for the dragon slayer to follow. Not that he'd need it – the town strip was a bright spark in an otherwise sparse landscape. Magic torches illuminated the walls, crooked and lined with moss. Her focus was purely on getting there now, finding them fast and getting the hostage wizards out of harms way before the Iron Dragon attacked.

Juvia is not yet so far removed from the orphanage, the teachings from the nuns still circle her mind. She can't quite can stop the impulse to send up a quick prayer. Juvia knows it's futile to ask for anything but mercy after straying so far. She should turn around, run back past the guild's golden boy, and then what? She can't return empty handed to the mansion and the idea of returning alone, without a story of success to tell the Master leaves a sick feeling in her stomach.

The unexpected cool of raindrops against her cheek pulled her from her reverie. She doesn't recall dropping her umbrella yet her hand is cold and empty. Juvia was closer now, close enough to see two people milling about outside the spot. They haven't spotted her yet, their bulky figures filling out to show men with the tell-tale signs of magic users. Guards. In her water form, Juvia approached.

For the first time in her life, Juvia was the one to strike first. The two guards bubbled up before their magic can attack her. Whatever alarm they might have raised went untouched.

The shutters along every building were closed against her rain and for that she was grateful. She needed a moment to prepare but she didn't even have that. A glance over her shoulder revealed the jagged outline of Gajeel, moving swiftly, becoming clearer with every second.