When the dust had settled (literally and figuratively) all the merchants lay dead or dying and Black Lily were officially the owners of three shiny new carriages. Amara pushed her porcelain faceplate up until it was perched on the top of her head and let out a final, ragged exhale as her onyx eyes surveyed their spoils. The air was thick with the metallic scent of gore and the dirt road on which they now stood was slowly darkening with blood of the fallen. She actually found the smell comforting in a twisted way, as it reminded her of the long days she had once spent in her father’s morgue, watching as he tended the bodies of the recently deceased.

Giselle’s mare interrupted Amara’s musings, chomping at her bit and pawing the ground in an attempt to portray how impatient she was to get back to her master. “I hear you, girl,” the pale woman murmured, gloved hand coming down to pat the beast’s neck soothingly. The mare let out snort but seemed to settle after a moment, appeased for the time being. With a click of her tongue and an easy nudge of her heels the blonde’s mount started up at a trot towards the equipage that contained Giselle.

Once she had gotten close and the interior of the carriage came into view, Amara let out an appreciative whistle, both brows migrating towards her hairline. Giselle stood among the wreckage, her sable hair dappled in the dying evening light and the wooden floor around her littered with the corpses of all that had opposed her. Her sickle was still drawn, rivulets of blood dripping lazily from the curved blade and coupled with the wispy veils and her striking blue eyes she appeared more like a goddess of death rather than an ordinary woman. “You did a number on them,” Amara finally said when she found her voice again, her words taking on a timbre that was approaching reverent. She quickly cleared her throat, her tone returning to its typical silvery lilt as she continued. “I brought your horse back. Did you want to ride her or steer the carriage?”

As she spoke the blonde turned her coal colored gaze back towards the way they had come, catching sight of Wil riding her flighty stallion back up the main road. “Hey,” Amara called out when he was close enough to hear, the scarred side of her mouth quirking up into an easy half smile as she raised a hand and gave a subtle two fingered wave. “Good to see you’re not dead yet,” she commented as she looked him over, checking for any obvious injuries. The man appeared a little disheveled but mostly fine as far as she could tell, however his dark blonde hair seemed more brown than usual thanks to the bits of dirt still in it. Maybe he had fallen? That would explain why his own mount had gone missing. “Thanks for rescuing my horse,” she continued, nodding her chin down towards Acorn, who’s ears pinned back the moment he caught sight of her. 

Amara scowled at the behavior, recalling how he’d thrown her earlier and how her body still ached from the impact of the fall. “I’m glad somebody found him useful, anyways,” she grumbled, chewing the inside of her cheek in obvious annoyance aimed solely at the buckskin. 

"It's already dusk, damnit," she heard a voice curse from somewhere behind her, and the scarred woman turned her head just in time to see Gabriel climbing to the front of the carriage that he and Darian had overtaken together. He had taken to leading this particular job, so Amara listened silently as the green eyed man instructed them to ride out towards Braven and seek shelter for the night, lest they get caught out on the roads after dark. Amara couldn’t help but agree, she’d spent enough time in the Wildlands to know she didn’t want to be out in the open after sunfall.