Idun’s claws smash against the child’s arm, and I watch with some admitted shock when the sharp, deadly, indestructible weapons break from her fingertips for the very first time, leaving nary a scratch on the child’s flesh. There’s a pained scream that follows. It takes a moment to realize it’s Idun screaming, as she staggers back, clutching her wrist, while blood pours from her fingertips.
