There was a rush of noise, the displacement of air, a shuffling of feet. Phia knew that Gernev would be outnumbered, and despite his skill, would be in need of support. She had confidence that Kirian could handle himself in a duel. She glanced upon her finely made Elven bow, arrow in her hand, gently resting in it's passive state. She could feel it's humble lethality emanating from it, vibrating like it had a mind of it's own. In Phia's mind, the arrows were unique. With their own stories. Each arrow was made by herself, years ago, soaked in enchanted waters and whittled down to perfection. Simple, plain, perfection. A wooden shaft, a piercing tip, and a feathered end. Penetrating armor and bleeding her enemies.

She was leaned against the inner wall of the cart, bracing herself against it, crouching down. She sucked in a quiet breath from underneath her bandana, steadying her hands and face. She pushed off against the wall and turned 180 degrees and side-stepped to look out the window. She pulled her string back and consumed the information that was on the other side of the window. Gernev was locked up with a powerful looking knight. The enemy knight struck her as familiar, perhaps she had read of him, but her mind was already onto the next important thing. Very close nearby, a pole-arm collided with the cart. Her eyes flashed to the source. A man-at-arms, just a short distance away, a prime target. Acting on instinct, she let loose an arrow at the prime target.

It whistled through the air. She did a short whistle along with it.

It would be coming in from his left, almost directly to his left, but an observant man might be able to see it in his peripherals. It should past just above his arm and into his middle-left torso. A painful distraction at the least.