Oliver's eyebrow twitched, but he followed after her, saying nothing – it was the opportunity that he was looking for, after all.
With the attention of the chariotmen divided, he stole Blackthorn's strategy, and he clubbed the javelins that came for him aside, just as she had, using it as his chance to take greater strides forward.
Soon enough, his sword was in range. The chariotmen attempted to take a step back, but there was only so much room in that cart of theirs. Oliver's sword came down, and a spray of blood caught him across the face.
From the left, the same was true of Blackthorn. Her sword found her range, and she slashed, catching the man across the throat, but she wasn't there to deal with the blood when it came. She was already barrelling towards her next target, in a display of recklessness that would have put even Oliver to shame.
