"What an uncoordinated attack," Gale thought, listening as the steps came closer and closer to her body. "Grab him, Brandy," she whispered, raising a hand to smooth her purple pompadour. "Right, no casualties, just injuries," he responded, and waited for the soldier's charge before nimbly stepping out of the way and chasing after him with that same speed that the Nathbakks were known for before hooking the feral's weak arms around his waist and digging her claw-like nails into his sides. "You think such an attack like that will work?" he growled, and after a few moments of struggling to do so, raised him over Gale's back and began to bend him with ease. "Bat Breaker, huh?" she thought, raising an eyebrow. 

"My last wielder was killed by your army of fools!" Brandy screeched, bending the soldier's body as far as it would go with difficulty. "You killed an innocent family and many others! Have you no shame?!" he screamed before tossing him to the ground, rubbing one of the feral's delicate arms a few moments after. "That was a bit too much," she wheezed silently, feeling the exhaustion wash over her tiny body. "My legs can handle those kicks, but my arms can't handle his weight." Standing up straight, Brandy continued to wield his sword while panting quietly, refraining from speaking. "I'm sorry, Gale, but you're just not strong enough to do what I'd like," Brandy informed her. "You'll have to rest now before you can do anything that strenuous."