No sooner was there enough space between the bars for the girl to slip trough than she did.  But instead of trying to get as far away from Cecil as she could, Amuné flung her arms around him and hugged the Machina tight, burying her face in his shirt.  She was shaking badly, and unwilling to let go, even if he tried to slip away.

Wyth came to brush forcefully against her back, though itnwas a tight squeeze between child and cage.  Satisfied that she was no longer trapped, he turned his attention to the next task: protection.  Most of the slavers in the room were down, injured or knocked out by Cecil's gauntlets.  One was struggling to get back to his feet, and the moorcat applied a liberal dose of claws to ensure the man changed his mind about that idea.

The other Ydrans waited until Cecil had a chance to widen the gap in the bars and then slipped out one after another.  Most gave him a smile or a word of thanks, though none were keen to linger.  "How do we get out of this place?" demanded the skeptic, looking around.  She wasn't fool enough to believe that the path out was clear.  The older man gave Cecil a pat on the shoulder.  Thank the Saints for your timely rescue, young man."  He went to scoop up a blade from one of the fallen men, and the lady that had mentioned her children followed suit, though she held it uncertainly.  "We'll try not to get in your way, but we'll help as we can."