Kynrind's face twisted to an furious scowl. Reaching under the undead saber, she removed the polearm and bow. The arrows, she noted, were missing. Slinging the bow across her back, she backed up, the polearm in hand.  "I expect you to keep your word, forsaken. Or my face will be the last thing you -ever- see in this unlife."<br/><br/>The huntress made to turn away, pauseing for a moment. "One other thing...,"  and spun, swinging the polearm in one direction, then in another, just barely touching the mount's fur. Her strike a precise arc that sliced the ropes binding Anoriafell to the mount. "She can ride normally. There's no need for my sister to ride like a sack of grain."<br/><br/>With a nod and last look to her sister, Kynrind turned on a heel and walked off into the undergrowth.