Being one with the power to bring back life into dead bones wasn't something Anne-Marie prided herself on, and it was something she tried to keep hidden for the most part, but there was no way she could deny that its effects weren't helpful. There was stigma and rightfully so, and the Dunmer would probably hold that against her as well, but for now, escape was top priority. She couldn't stop herself from worrying though. She wished she had her staff...

She hear him mention the sword- well, beggars couldn't be choosers, she guessed. Anne-Marie didn't quite like blades as weapons- her arms weren't strong, well, she was rather weak altogether, her magicka being the strongest part of her. Even though the sword was meant to be held by only one hand, the small Breton had to grab it with both of hers as she tried to keep up with the Dunmer. It was a good thing she stopped just a few inches away from him when he spoke again; a little closer and she may have prodded him in the behind with the raised sword.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the platform in the middle, locking onto the carriage driver and the man standing over him. Her mouth twisted into an unwilling grimace- she had seen this sort of ritual before, in fact, she had even partaken in one before running for her life. Bile rose from her stomach, making its way up to her throat, and she had to force herself not to throw up, because that certainly wouldn't help anyone.

"I can... do [i]something[/i]" Her forehead screwed in concentration, eyes on the ground before her as her hands raised, sword still held, tightly in their grip. Then from the dirt rose a skeleton, green fumes wafting off him as the undead stood before the two, seeming uncertain almost. Anne-Marie's eyes shifted back to the man with the dagger, and the skeleton shifted its focus in his direction. Now filled with surety, it bolted forward, jumping onto the the shocked man before exploding, toxic fumes permeating his location as he tried to scramble away.

Anne-Marie gulped, unsure of what to do next, seeing she had clearly interrupted the ritual. The focus of the five people standing around the platform was now on her and the Dunmer, each bearing looks that bode anything but good will.

"I- I think... they might be angry?" she whispered, voice a little high pitched from stress. Her hand gripped tightly around the sword, as if it could help her out of the situation.

She [i]really[/i] wished she had her staff!