It is a bad idea, even on her list. Not just bad - a downright awful, dumb idea, a chance one in a million, and she's quite sure she used all one in a million chances she had.
It beats doing nothing, though, so when she feels the jaws on her skull tighten again, Flick shuts her eyes and hopes to survive.
As the teeth threaten to tear her apart, even in this form, she knows that she will not.
In a last attempt, more instinct than a thought she reaches out and in at the same time, and burns.
She's not sure what she feels right now. She's angry, scared and still in shock, but above all, she just wants to cry. For the first time in her life she is truly helpless and hopeless. Her hand does not close all the way, the lighter skin of the scar still a bit tender, and no matter what she does, there's not even a spark of magic she can reach.
There is nobody around and the last time she felt this alone she saw Fyr walk out from the woods, prepared to fight some goblins, or whatever. Even goblins would be an improvement right now.
Wandering through the night, still feeling more than half dead, Flick wonders what was the point, before she breaks down into pieces.
It seems polite to thank the young hunter who brings her back in the morning, but it does not sound sincere at all, even to her.