She would not have a clear recollection of the battle to retell. She never did, truth be told. A frantic slashing of sword, successful not because of skill but because of relentless practice that made the moves automatic. They were in her blood in her bones so that when she needed them, they were there without thought. Because as she fought the thing, she was well beyond thought and into a place of instinct and frantic survival. She didn’t want to be eaten. 

So after the fact, she’d have no tale to tell. The tales were for the singers, like Martin. They could spin a tale, perhaps she’d let him tell this tale because she certainly wasn’t going to. The final blow that felled the creature wasn’t a matter of careful calculation, it was a matter of the creature being more exhausted than she. It was a matter of her being better at not being eaten than it was dealing with prey that fought back. Simple as that. Her blade slid in and it collapsed on it. She fell to her knees because she would not let go of her blade and the weight of it bore her down. She felt it die and it was only when the long, unholy groan finished reverberating up the blade that she relaxed her grip and knelt, hurting. 

“Fuck.” She said and hung her head. She wanted to weep. The burning on her cheek was considerable and the surface of her armor was pocked with sizzling glowing spots where the blood of the creature had hit. She needed to clean it off before it ruined her armor. Her armor, never mind her cheek. 

There was a moment where she considered the values that led her to hold armor in higher esteem than her face and then throwing back her head she laughed, long and hard she laughed as the cooling body of her demonic opponent seemed to sink in on itself. 

Reaching forward and gripping the sword with two hands and employing her feet in the task she wrenched her sword free. An arch of glowing acidic blood spurted out and sprayed across her boots. She grunted in displeasure and turned to find where her employer had got himself too. Except the world kept turning, and turning. 

“Oh.” She said stupidly, closing her eyes to make the world stop spinning. “Shit.” She lurched a few feet forward and felt her shoulder smack hard into a sapling. She grunted but welcomed the pain as she grabbed hold of the tree as the whole world upended itself. 

“Alexi.” She called, forgetting that she hadn’t been given permission to use the nickname she’d overheard Charles used. “I don’t…” she opened her eyes, trying to find him and then closed them again. “I don’t know that I can get back to camp on my own.” 

They hadn’t come far, she reassured herself. She just needed a shoulder and then she’d point him the right way. That’s all.