That's all right; Anders laughs for both of them, short and harried, as he watches her lift those shoes, brandishing them like - well. Not even like a weapon, really. Not ideal.

"Don't think I can enchant those!" Which leaves them an even less effective method of defense against the undead, sadly. He suggestion isn't a bad one, either, but unfortunately he'd already been thinking along those lines. He shakes his head sharply as they mount the top of the dune, sand sliding out from under his heels.

"I could make a much bigger fire, but I'd need some sort of cover." Heftier spells like that, they aren't instantaneous. And since she can't safely keep those things back, he'd rather not risk it. They're already only barely ahead of them - or as near as he can tell, they still are, with the fog so thick it's getting hard to clearly distinguish even her features, in the dark.

When a rotting arm snatches out of the haze, grasping at them, even that estimation seems a bit optimistic. "Watch out!"