Edwyn had learned the poor bastard's name. [i]Goddamnit[/i], he'd learned his name. His last name, anyway. Daly. Shorter guy, young. Really young. Couldn't have been older than nineteen or so. The boy had talked almost the entire hike to the crash site, and Edwyn had sort-of half listened, just managing to catch his name. He'd had a kind of monotone, faux-low voice that made it clear he was trying to sound older than he was. 

And now he was in two pieces, and very dead. 

"RUN!" 

Someone had shouted, he wasn't sure who. Whoever it was had the right idea, though. The sustained fire from the vehicle across the way was tearing them apart. After the shots sank into the dropship and after Daly got sawed in half, one of his other men, one of the ones whose name he didn't know caught a shot to the face. The others started running, and Edwyn held his rifle in one hand and grabbed one of Kyra's arms with his other. 

"We need to fuckin' [i]go![/i]" And he started running after the others, heavy rounds slapping into the dead soil around them. He fully expected the shooter to get lucky, for a stray round to catch him in the leg or the chest, but it didn't happen. Not this time. Not today.

[hr]

By the time they'd gotten far enough away to no longer hear the gunshots, they'd lost another. Of the five men Reyes had ordered him to take, three were dead. There were four of them, now, including himself and the survivor from the dropship. He took a seat, hard, on a dead tree trunk. There were lots of dead trees, here, some fallen and others still mournfully upright. This place must have been a forest, once. Edwyn allowed himself a brief moment of self-pity as he examined his situation. So far as he was concerned, he'd gotten three people killed. They had a bit of a hike to get back to where Reyes and the others, were, too. He put his head in his hands, silently counted to twenty, and then forced himself to stand. 

There wasn't terribly much that Edwyn O'Byrne was good at, but lately he'd become quite adept at forcing himself to keep moving. He knew that if he stopped for very long at all, he'd never get moving again. It was true of his thoughts, his memories, and it was true of sitting there on that trunk. 

"Right, then, everyone's weapons unlocked?" He looked around at his companions. "Mine are fine, but I don't have the authority to unlock anyone else's, someone can have my sidearm if they need it." He sighed, and decided then that he was going to commit himself to keeping at least these three people alive. "Oh, and, uh, names. We can drop the sir and ma'am shit, now. You can call me Ed, Edwyn, or O'Byrne. I don't much care." He scratched the back of his neck, trying to see a way forward in his head. "I figure we can take another two or three minutes here, catch our breath, and then we need to book it back to the main landing site. I think it's, ah, due northwest."