Malia kept her hand around Carson’s as they went on, wanting simply to be close to him before they reached their destination. If needed, they could simply let go. His words in response to her worry helped, she knew that both him and Letto were seasoned at this sort of thing. She was not, and while she had complete faith in her abilities, she didn’t wish to let them down. If either of them died, it would be a weight on her shoulders. If Carson died, that would take away what made this crummy life worth living.<br/><br/>As they approached what would be the settlement of the huntsmen, her blood began to pump in her ears. This was it. This was where her brother’s killer was. He would die tonight, she would avenge Oliver, there was no way around that fact. However, as they approached the group of houses, she noticed the same thing the two boys did. Empty. Her hand found her blade, gripping it tightly, having dropped Carson’s hand awhile ago. She went to advance, to walk through the area with then, but she paused as Carson directed her to stay back.<br/><br/>She didn’t want to stay back, she wanted to go with them. She wanted to help defend the group against anything they may encounter. But she did as Carson said, defusing that she could simply run down if a fight did break loose. But she wasn’t going to let him go just yet. “Carson,” she whispered, trying to grab his attention. Once he turned to her, she signed something to him.<br/><br/><i>I love you.</i><br/><br/>It was the only sign sequence she knew. Her father would sign it to her whenever they had the need to be quiet out on runs. With this, she mouthed to him to be careful, before walking back behind the tree line. She crouched behind a tree, her hand still on her blade as she watched them push further into the settlement. Something was off, she could feel it. Why would they leave, and in such a hurry? However, her attention was pulled at three large figures approaching the Striders down below. She squinted, trying to see just exactly who it may be. Her eyes widened, and her heart began to beat out of her chest. The Vanguard.<br/><br/>She went to take a step towards them, but then Carson yelled, screamed for her to run. She didn’t want to, she wanted to stay she wanted to help, but she promised Carson she’d do exactly as he said. She slowly stood, and went to turn, though she heard a twig snap behind her. Instead of turning around, she dove to her left, just as a blade cane down across the tree she once crouched at. When she looked, her breath caught in her throat as a fourth Vanguard stood in front of her, the black skull dripping down his armor. She pulled her pistol, taking a few steps back as she fired. The Vanguard simply stood as they bounced off. His entire being was covered in metal, the gun would prove to be useless.<br/><br/>She pulled her blade then, just in time for the Vangurd to come at her with his own, and she used hers to deflect his swing. She began dodging him the best she could, as lunging for him was not something she’d be able to do. She didn’t want to step into his swing radious, her blade was too small to defend her if he grabbed her. She ran. She turned, pushing off as she began to sprint back towards where she came from. She underestimated how quick the Vanguard could move despite wearing so much metal. He pulled his pistol, aiming it at Malia, and firing. The bullet sank into her outer leg, nothing dangerous or deadly, thought it brought her to the ground all the same.<br/><br/>She spun around onto her back as the Vangsurd approached, and went to pull her own pistol, though he grabbed her by her neck before she could. He lifted her into the air, and she held his wrist to keep him from completely compromising her airway. However, that was suddenly the last of her worries. White, hot pain blossomed through her body as the Vangaurd pushed his blade through her. She widened her eyes, taking in a choppy breath, before he dropped her. She fell in a heap, watching as the figure simply walked away slowly.<br/><br/>The pain was unimaginable, she cried out, her hand pressed to her torso as she attempted to push herself up. She needed to get to the tree, she needed to get to Carson. She couldn’t die without finding Carson. She managed to pull herself up, black dots growing in her vision. Her hand was covered in blood, the scarlet liquid running down her body, soaking her clothes. She pushed on. She staggered a few steps, choppy, ragged breaths falling from her lips. “Carson...” though she knew he couldn’t hear her, but she could see him. He was crouched in the settlement. She could see him, but he couldn’t see her. But it didn’t matter, she couldn’t stay up for long.<br/><br/>She swayed on her feet, taking a couple steps to the tree before she fell to her knees, hunched over. She turned, leaning against the trunk as she coughed, spitting after she did. She spit blood, she knew that wasn’t a good sign. She knew the likelyhood of her walking away from this injury. She had to stay awake until Carson found her. But she couldn’t. “Carson...” she tried one last time, her voice hoarse and rough. She kept her hand pressed firmly to her side, trying to do anything to keep her grounded. The last thing she heard were gunshots, the ones Carson had fired to give him room to find her, and then everything went black.<br/><br/>Her chest rose and fell slowly, though hardly enough to be noticeable. Her pulse was weak, but it still thumped on underneath her skin. Her head was lulled to the side, her black hair stuck to her face. Her hand was covered in blood, and sticky, though she’d pressed a cloth against the wound to try and help the bleeding. Carson would see she’s alive, right? He wouldn’t leave her, would he? Nonetheless, the Vangaurd who had done this stood in the trees not too far back, cleaning her blood from his blade.