Riley rode at a slow-ish pace around the rear guard of the group, having recent ambush attacks by ballsy bandits and thugs had left the group bleeding and diminished. It was discouraging to watch a group of people who where supposed to be called the new hero's of the land be slain by men of no morals, at this point everyone in the blades had experienced loss in some way or another - it was almost an induction to watch a comrade die. The morbid truth that simply walking around cleaning up bandits to keep the kingdom a safer place was extraordinarily hazardous, and probably lead to the reason that Wyeth was selective about the people he accepted into the ranks of blades. As they started to break rank and disperse into smaller groups to explore the town, Riley jumped off her steed and moved up to walk alongside Mara and the tactician of their small militia of warriors. She was a little surprised to see Mara talking to Wyeth about an injury, considering he was the most important member of their small group. 

[b]"You should be more careful on the field Wyeth, you die and then the rest of the army become a group of headless chickens. Mara, I'm surprised you weren't keeping a closer eye on him in the battle in all honesty"[/b] Riley spoke to the pair of them with a distant, sour tone that didn't adequately express her concern or worry for the pair of them. She used to the time to inspect Tal, and wondered if he had suffered anything during the battle. The only downside she ever had to riding him into battle was the fact that he was the one to suffer the brunt of the injuries and wounds - she rarely suffered from enemy fire unless it was because of archers. Her hand glided over a small incision that had been made by a blade into his forearm, but it was nothing serious.