The Swordmaiden met the gaze of the Crusader. Her own eyes were filled with a surge of adrenaline and perhaps fear. Not a fear for dying, certainly, but a fear of what would come for both of them after this one battle. Surely many would follow, and with battles came death.  Yet the man did not charge her like his comrades had. This puzzled Mikasa more than calmed her. She had been reluctant to fight, but were not about to abandon her people, not while there were still some standing. The small breach prevented too many crusaders from charging in, but again, it was only a matter of time. 
“What are you doing?” Mikasa muttered to herself, panting in her place.

“Look at that! A woman with a sword, hah! I’ll get her!” One of the crusaders shouted out, and while she was rusty on her Western, she knew it did not bode well. Mikasa gave a last glance to Rylen, almost an apology. She knew her own position and his. He had given her chances to run, for whatever reason. But how could she? The shouting crusader had gathered two more soldiers to come along with him, running slowly in their heavy armor for the woman.
Without hesitation Mikasa turned around and darted for the infirmary, seeking to lure them into an enclosed area. That was the plan so far, at least.

“Come on!” the officer shouted out in his native language, nonchalantly dancing around with his blade, landing several blows and cuts to the crusaders.  The cold night was as relentless as the battle in the fort, with screams and shouts everywhere. The Heroshidan officer caught the sight of the taller crusader, smirking to himself as he held his blades at the ready, challenging the giant where he stood.

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