As they slowed down, Mizrel leans over so she could look at the pallisade and gate. A frown coming over her face. The hours of riding had left her sore and she was holding on now mainly by her grip on the gunslinger's waist. Her torso pressed tightly against his back and her legs and hips against his.<br/><br/>"I need to get off before my legs forget how to walk." Looking at her 'companions', she asks, "Which one of you can yell loud? Or do you suggest that we go around this place?"