[center][hr][hr][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmVhNzk0My5TMlZ6ZEhKbGJDQlRiV2wwYUEsLC4wAAAAAAAA/pwfluidhand.medium.png[/img][hr][hr][/center]
[i]'Breathe in,'[/i]

Her heartbeat pounded like a fist against an old, wooden door, begging to escape its ribbed prison. Her eyes darted about at each incoming threat every couple moments, nothing more than a quick glance before focusing on her own route.

[i]'breathe out,'[/i]

Her senses caught wind of her newfound troubles, attackers on all sides. Her mind ticked like clockwork, plan a to plan b, old route to new. A passing graze just barely caught the back of Gregory's leg, and her sword averted an incoming strike from the front, undead trampled underfoot by her horse.

[i]'breathe in,'[/i]

A line of armed warriors pulled her to a sharp and sudden, temporary stop. Sword clashed with pitchfork as her blade knocked the zombie farmhand's tool aside, her blade piercing his skull. A kick to the ribs was the signal he needed, and, with a new direction, the two raced down a new road: One of the major roads leading into Six Corners. Thankfully, now with the housing in the way, she was no longer in direct sight of the cultists and the summoner. 

[i]'Breathe out.'[/i]

She let her intense concentration drop, and her breathing became erratic and quickened in pace, though she could tell now she was in a better place than where she was before. Steadily she calmed, and brought their pace to be slower than before, quickly cutting into a side-road which would bring her northbound. The side-streets of Six Corners connected each of the main roads, and so navigating through them wasn't awfully difficult, as she could trail the sounds of spells being cast to the cultists. She saw a building crumble closer towards the fighting, however she was already heading toward the next major road before she could identify what that was a result of. 

Gregory was a fine steed, but like all things, she knew, he couldn't be made to wear himself out so quickly. That little burst of adrenaline had the two of them frightened, and Kestrel couldn't help but echo the pessimist in her mind:

[i]'What am I doing here...? Why am I not running?'[/i]

This wasn't her problem. She could run, and it likely wouldn't make much of a difference. At this rate it was in her best interest, seeing as Gregory had been wounded, no matter how slight, and would need to rest from the fighting done already. He had stamina, true, but he'd already spent much of the morning running no less than an hour earlier! And they were fighting [i]mages![/i] Practiced killers, at that; a combination which Kestrel felt she was deeply inadequate in understanding. Robin knew about mages. She knew about magic and some of the basic spells. Kestrel just knew not to fight them. 

And yet, she [i]was[/i] fighting them.

She was too focused to see the streets fly by as she and Gregory flew down street after street, soon to be upon the road in which the cultists had likely come from. The sounds of battle came one ear and out the other; she didn't even know if she was being followed by any undead! Colours of the bazaar went by like the harsh breeze, cool against her face, sweat dripping and reigns shaking under-hand. Her sword glinted a dull crimson, much unlike the refined silver it had just a couple minutes earlier, a testament to the blood she had managed to spill. Thankfully it was blood of those already dead. If she decided to attack the cultists, however...

She pushed that thought aside. They were close now. Very. She took a look behind her, to see if anything had followed the two of them. Unlikely, seeing as the summoner's attention would now be on those in the main group. Perhaps her distraction could've bought them a better chance to advance? Regardless, after entering an alley, the two halted to a stop, and Kestrel dismounted. The walls were warm from the recent fire, ash dispersed over the ground like a dirty blanket. The dead around her didn't stir, however out of caution she removed the heads of the unfortunate young man and woman who were buried beneath the rubble, before immediately regretting her decision. Though she objected to the notion on her morality, the issue of safety was more important. 

They were dead. It was safer for her to remove their heads, just in case. Even if their bodies were buried beneath rubble. 

Gregory didn't make much of a sound, save his loud panting, an effort to remove the carbon dioxide from his lungs. Nothing that was louder than the nearby battle, however, so their position wouldn't have been given away by him. Unless someone was tracking her the whole way around behind the cultists, then they likely didn't know she was there. If she was lucky, they would assume she had fled. Naturally, she was going to be cautious about it. 

Her eyes peaked around the alleyway. She could see the tavern across from her position, and the cultists closer, though still over a hundred meters away. Corpses lined the streets, and the large mob in front of the cultists still remained a threat. However, she was curious to know whether any behind them were stirring. Between the barrel and the food stall in front of the building she was behind, she had a decent amount of cover against those that might look back. An overturned cart beside a particularly destroyed building some 50 meters ahead across the road would prove decent cover if she chose to advance. 

Kestrel kept behind the building with the stall for the time being. She was going to see if it were safe to advance before doing anything... [i]dangerous.[/i]