She lay there, coughing and spitting up the goo. After awhile she rolls onto her hands and knees, and slowly stands. Wincing at the pain of her beaten body. The goo, she scrapes off as much as she can. Cursing her missing sword and checking her gear. The pack she slung over her back. Shrugging it into place then finger checks her daggers. Spitting one last time, Mary stealthily heads towards the door. Being v ery careful this time. It was the only way to go.