He considered her answer. Not so much her words, but the way she spoke them. Something was familiar about that voice. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to spot anything, any indication of who she was, but nothing. No loose strand of jet black hair, no glimpse of the unnaturally beautiful eyes. The sound of her voice, though, he could feel his skin crawl at the sound of it. Familiar. Too familiar. 

Without shifting his position, he pulled the drawstring of his bow. He wasn't sure if he wanted to challenge her. Alone, there would be no one to fall into the cross hairs. But last time he'd challenged her, if she was indeed [i]her[/i], he had barely survived. Ziad hadn't survived. 
She and the allies she'd made had torn through here and destroyed everything so effortlessly they may as well have been giants, and the Ziadi little more than helpless newborns. He had stood and fought. He and his brother, and the little army his brother had commanded. Too many of them, as well, had fled, terrified. The city stood no chance.
Ziad was gone. Everyone he had once cared for gone. It was no longer something worth dying for. Fighting now would be a pointless effort. 

"Go back out the way you came." He called again. "Head north-west, toward the mountains. Once you reach them, follow them northward, and you'll reach the port city."
He shifted at last, pointing his arrow at her, aiming, ready. "Anyone who could took off in that direction. Its the nearest city. Now. I say again. Get. Out."