It's the snapped pipe that has her nearly jumping out of her skin, spinning on her heel with her nails bared as though they were two of a kind— that she'd wrestle him to the ground in a heartbeat if it came to it. Fear only goes so far in Sombra's mind, after all, and like a cornered animal, she's always too keen to strike rather than be struck.

Which is why she doesn't bother to wait and confirm his position in that locked pause before she starts to sprint again; the more distance she can effectively put between herself and her translocator could make for seconds— minutes of bought time if she and Cortana succeed. He won't dissuade her from it.

This nightmare isn't hers.