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[indent][indent][i]I[/i]t became rather apparent to one Vix Blackwater, as they crossed the copse of twisted bark and quivering limbs, that she was a literal fish out of water here. Or, some[i]thing[/i]. The notion flitted briefly the moment her boot crunched over parched wood and promptly snapped such under her slight weight, coupled with a tendril of quaking nervousness at the void of sheer unknown eclipsed by a thicket of shadows. Despite the wedge of light provided by the only one aware of their awaiting endeavor into the gloom, the beam did little to settle that bundle of nerves curling against her spine in a weighted sphere of impending dread. Call it an old, and worn intuition, but creatures that went bump in the night had an agenda operating under cloaks of darkness, one she had no intentions of participating in. Others would label her a flight driven tool, but Vix had not made it this far based upon methods of luck and lack of know how. Years under the thumb of a Raider moniker branding her ruthless and mad had roughly sheered her psychosis to an almost acute paranoia, such trauma blanketed under copious amounts of whiskey and biting wit that left her feeling [i]good[/i]. Vix cinched her grip upon her rifle with a doubled vice and kept herself behind Sully most of the time, trusting to his footfalls more so than the others apart of their troupe. Hunter inclinations clothed him within spades of capability, and whilst she wasn't dismissing to those of the addict and . . . Synth [Vix didn't trust [i]anything[/i] that didn't bleed red] it was the youthful age of Felix that left her toiling in doubt. Experience made men in these wastes.

Lost to the cogs whirring behind her shifting gaze, it was only her acute perception that alerted her to the sudden shift in their atmosphere, the thicket yawning into a clearing bathed within the scenes of struggle and battle. Vix's brow drew down harsh, the butt of her rifle hoisted up against her shoulder and her arms almost rigid as she turned, panning the space at their backs with hurried glances through the gloom, lingering on the marred tree and the gunk seeped around the wounds for just a moment. [i]Shit . . .[/i]

Vix did not like this, the whole quest just reeked of something wrong. From the slick taint on Soldier's warhammer, to the voice reaching to them desperately from the trees yonder and plucking on her nerves thrice fold. The former Raider almost holstered her rifle and reached for her knives along her waist until a snarl reached forward and tensed her shoulders all the more. Of all things possible within the forest, she was not expecting a trio of heavily radiated mutts stalking them from the dark. She almost barked in laughter, to think these feral creatures were responsible for this mayhem. Vix had worked with mongrels like these before, usually sedated creatures that were later taunted to ruthless aggression and led upon metal scraps and held down with macabre wire and chain to guard their out posts. She immediately ducked down and behind the others, they were better shots than her, for her skill relied heavily on the knives glimmering on her leather belts slung across her bust and waist. With lasers firing, snipers at the ready and pistols donned, Vix inhaled sharply through her flaring nasal and coiled her body for defense. 

She knew that attempting to skirt around them would cause the lingering hound to break away, and a game of prey and predator was not within her [i]own[/i] agenda. Her eyes fell upon "T" edging closer to the warhammer lying in the distance. Not a terrible plan, heavy melee against warped flesh and bone, there was little competition to that offense. Vix nodded with her assessment, holstered her rifle and drew two knives with artful flicks of her wrists, procuring the blades with finesse and professionalism. If they could keep the mutts busy enough and pump them up with enough holes, she could swoop in and finish the job or bolt around to search for Rocket calling for them beyond.[/indent][/indent]