Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

Everything happened all at once. An arrow flew past his ear, whistling through the air before hitting its target, the sound of the impact echoing through the open expanse of the camp. Arin turned, watching as the body fell. Arin grinned, the thrill of battle warming his body. 

Arin caught the man's initial swing on the cross guard of his sword, rotating his wrist to try and disarm the man, but before he could complete the motion he was stabbed at by the other fighter. A bead of sweat dripped from Arin's forehead as he rotated, the blade barely sliding across his back. It left a thin scratch, and Arin retaliated by kicking at the man, pushing him back before striking at the other man with the butt of his sword. 

"Go kill tha bitch. I'll handle this scrawny bastard." The man said as the pair locked blades again. The skinny male smiled, his rotting teeth dark as he looked over at Marsila before rolling out of the way of an arrow before charging her. 

Arin narrowly ducked the thin blade slicing through the air, the large man aiming at his neck. Arin quickly pivoted on his back foot, before thrusting the blade at the man's open abdomen. The main was quick to dodge, but Arin left a deep gash in the man's side. The man roared, and charged, tackling Arin to the ground. They fought like wild animals, no longer using swords but beat each other with nails and fists

Arin kicked out from underneath the man, but the man swung wildly, barely connecting with Arin's jaw. Arin saw stars, but as spit and blood ran down the side of his face he kicked again, and scrambled for his knife, fighting the man off. The man put his hands around Arin's neck, squeezing the life out of Arin.

Arin's vision began to darken just as he gripped the leather wrapped handle of the small knife. He drew it and weakly stabbed underneath the man's chin, the sharpened blade easily sliding into the soft meat of the man's neck. Blood dripped onto Arin's face, a red river coursing it's way down Arin's dagger. Arin coughed as the man's grip loosened, and just as Arin was about to give up the man fell, and the blue sky greeted his face. Arin laid there for a moment, regaining his lost breath before forcing himself to sit up and look for Marsila.
James
Marsila Vema
Northwind Cannibal Camp 

As Marsila was approached, the shifter knew it would be futile to attempt another chance at using her bow and arrow when one of the men charged towards her. As he lunged towards her with his sword, slicing through the air horizontally while aiming for her torso, Marsila jumped backwards with her spine rounded to avoid the blade from embedding into her obliques. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as the man's arms rose to swing again. However, the shifter took this opportunity to lunge towards the man before he had the chance to attack. 

It was evident that this man barely knew how to properly handle a sword, or lacked training in doing so with the way he continuously left himself open before each attempt on her life. He had been caught with surprise when the man felt Marsila's shoulder dig into his stomach whilst being thrown back. In a fluid motion, the two slammed into the ground before the shifter took advantage whilst he was momentarily stunned due to the force she applied when connecting her body to his and climbed above his chest. Wasting no time, she ripped the weapon from his hand, raised it above his head and plunged the sword through his skull, entering from his eye socket. The moment he rushed towards her to the moment she plunged his own sword into his cranium was fast paced, almost instant.

Raising her gaze from the deceased man beneath them, she locked her eyes towards the two men who fought barely a couple meters away. She watched as the man strangled Arin and felt herself grow fearful of his potential death and began to rise until he managed to slide a blade upwards, through the bandit's jaw and through the roof of his mouth, the end point landing between his eye sockets from within. Her shoulders dropped with relief as she lowered back down, sitting on her attacker's chest. 

When Arin looked in her direction, he would notice her staring blankly ahead of her, almost as if she was dissociating once again. That was not the case however as she was using her hearing to listen for any other potential attacks. Instead she heard the light snorting of horses in the distance, just out of their line of sight. 

Knowing they were no longer placed in a life-threatening situation, the adrenaline left her body as quickly as it had appeared. Her muscles ached as a pinching pain emerged from her stomach. As she lowered her sight, she saw a thin line of red along the torn material from the initial swing she had attempted to avoid. Marsila raised her shirt to gaze at where the wound would be and found it to be nothing but a simple scratch that continued to heal until there was no evidence she had been injured besides the blood that had seeped from it. Relieved, she looked towards Arin with an exhausted expression. "Are you alright?"
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

Arin gave a slight grimace, before rolling over and pushing himself to his feet. He sighed, stretching his arms before wiping his sword on the man's clothes. His muscles screamed in agony; the fight had used much of his strength. He sheathed his sword slowly, the sound of metal against wood ringing as the sword fell into the sheath completely. He glanced down at his dagger, scowling as he gripped the handle. The blade came free with a sickening sound of blade against bone, and Arin watched as blood dripped off of the slender piece of metal. He shook the excess blood off, before cleaning it just as he did the sword. He placed it back into the sheath at his waist, before letting his arms fall to his side as he turned to face Marsila once more. 

Her face was covered in blood and grime, and Arin laughed, realizing his own face probably looked the same. He grabbed two handfuls of snow and rubbed it across his face, wincing as the cold substance bit at his skin. He used his sleeve to dry off, before using the flat blade of his dagger to check his work. He repeated the process until he was satisfied, and as he finished he walked over to Marsila and took a seat beside her. 

"Quite." He said, his southerner accent seeping into his voice even though he had tried his entire life to break it. He leaned his head onto her shoulder unintentionally for a moment, before sitting up straight and looking over at the edge of the woods. 

"How are you?" He asked after a moment, glancing at her once he found the courage to speak again. "I apologize for letting that man get past me. If I had not been so afraid to open my wound again, I would never have made such a mistake." He said, touching his side. It had remained closed, a miracle he silently thanked the gods for.
James
**Marsila Vema
Northwind Camp**

"Don't" She began, keeping her eyes locked on him while noticing the obvious fatigue in his features and the way he carried himself to sit beside her. Arin had no reason to apologize to her and she felt a mixture of awe and amusement when he placed the blame on himself which hid the subtle flutter in her stomach when he rested his head against her.

"You're joking right? You have no reason to be sorry." She questioned with a raised brow. Did he really expect himself to be able to stop two of the remaining bandits on his own with the injuries he had sustained from the moment they first ran into them? Perhaps he felt like he was to blame as she was a woman and he felt as though it was his responsibility to protect her.

"If it helps, I do feel fine. Much better than him in fact" She commented while looking down towards the man she remained on top of. She was attempting to make light of the situation before exhaling deeply as she pressed her hands onto the corpse's chest to lift herself up onto her feet. She looked down towards Arin whilst contemplating on what they were to do next. "If you really want to make it up to me, you'll stay here while I grab the horses alright? Then we can leave this bloody place." 

Without giving him a chance to argue or disagree, Marsila turned on her heels and began towards the sound of the stallions they rode. Taking a couple steps, she paused momentarily while looking over her shoulder towards Arin to make a comment before continuing. "I'm serious. Don't move."
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

"Good." He said softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he rested his body. "I just got worried. Do that sometimes.." He said, a slight chuckle following his words. 

Arin went to stand up to follow her, before planting himself back on the ground, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. 

"Alright.. Alright. Fine." He said, the blood vessels under the skin of his face expanding as a small blush appeared. "I'll stay here. Just don't take too long or I will have to come after you." He said, glancing up at her, squinting as he tried to avoid the bright sun. He watched her walk away, before leaning back onto the soft snow. He stared at the sky, thinking for a moment. A soft breeze settled over the now quiet campsite. For a moment, Arin was at peace again. The pain in his side shook him out of his peaceful state, and Arin couldn't help but laugh. 

"How did I end up here?" He said out loud, looking up. He shook his head, settling into the snow again as he waited on Marsila. 

The sounds of approaching hoofbeats shook him out of his short rest, and Arin pushed himself up, brushing his shirt and hair clean of the wet snow. As he did, he gestured up at Marsila, before stopping his horse, soothing her by placing his hand on her neck. 

"It's ok, girl. I won't let that happen again." He said softly, scratching the horse's neck lightly before climbing into the saddle. He looked over at Marsila, pulling his cloak back around his shoulders as he settled into the saddle. 

"I guess we are one step closer to finishing all of this." Arin said, a hint of sadness touching his voice. "Ready to ride?"