'Be careful, brother,' said the woman, examining her fingernails. 'She fights well.'
'Like a devil! But she is no match for me, sister, have no fear.' He sprang down from his saddle. 'So then, Maljinn, shall we…'
The arrow stuck him through the chest, deep through, with a hollow thud.
'… begin?' The shaft quivered, its point glittering behind him, dry and bloodless. He began to walk towards her. Her next arrow caught him through the shoulder, but he only came on faster, breaking into a run, bounding forward with enormous strides.
[...]
The man was moving towards her, tipping, blurry. He jerked her arrow out of his chest and tossed it away. There was no blood, just a little dust. Just dust, curling in the air.
An Eater. He had to be.
- The Blade Itself, Part II, Her Kind Fight Everything