The other two women were no better. Malda had a wound to her upper thigh from a spear. It had pierced through the top of her dress, leaving a hole that swayed as she ran. Faye had taken a wound across her cheek, but of the three, she looked the strongest. She used that extra energy to help where she could. Offering Malda a shoulder to lean on when she required it, and warning Zhely when her glassy eyes mistook an enemy for an ally.
"VARNNN!" Vol bellowed at the front, chasing the man down. He would have left, and sprinted ahead, leaving his men to the masses. That was his instinct, more than anything. He was ill suited for the role of leadership. He knew that better than any. But even wearing the skin of a monster, he did not yet fall toward that crime. He cautioned himself toward patience.
