The moment The first strike happened it was safe to say Alina had dashed into the treeline; keeping her eyes from not only seeing the sight, but no doubt changing the monk's minds as their comrade fell to the ground. Naturally they went quickly to his aid as Atrius dashed off after Alina. Which it didn't take much to find her and she was standing in the open looking to ether side of her in a lost expression, although calling to her she jumped sharply, nearly falling down.<br/><br/>His gestures and expressions again guiding her where words where doing them little good. But despite everything she continued to follow him; most girls would be screaming for their lives or trying to run away... But yet she seemed rather calm about it, aside from running only once and keeping generally cautious she surely wasn't acting like any typical woman would anyways...<br/><br/>Following , even as they reached the base of a massive tree she continued to follow him, only to find that looked like a decent sized tree was actually rather roomy below it's roots; well for being under a tree anyhow... Being handed the warps however she stared at them and then him rather confusingly, even as he tried his best to explain it, Pulling his shirt back before further pulling it off, it almost seemed like she got the picture until he felt an odd pain spike on his arm.<br/><br/>It nearly looked like an act of insanity as he turned to see what she was doing as she jabbed a finger into his open wound. Was she nuts?! Trying to jerk his arm away he would feel her grip was like steel; strong and unmoving as she held him in place... But why would she even do such a thing?!.... Pulling the finger out of the wound she started to write along side his arm in his own blood as she started whispering the ancient words she commonly spoke, but this hardly touched her bazaar actions as much as he would catch sight of the writing she was painting out started to glow faintly.<br/><br/>Finishing the marking she took the same hand she wrote with and suddenly smeared her hand over the runes she wrote as well as the open wound. He would feel a sharp sizzling pain as her hand crossed his arm's wound, but when her hand lifted from him the only thing that remained was a heavy smear of his own blood and a light scar?.... What sort of witchcraft was this?... At the very lest it explained why she looked so confused at the bindings... she simply didn't need them...