Unlike some of the others, Vreta did not lose focus on his destination in his sprint towards the trucks. He was quick on his feet and could see well, even in this strange fog. His hearing might not have been as sharp as the Humans’ but in this cacophony of gunfire, screams, and howling, that was not terribly relevant. He just had to keep his objective in sight and avoid panicking. Were it not for the hovering, frictionless stretcher, Vreta likely would have been forced to abandon the wounded soldier, but as it stood, pushing her around did not meaningfully slow him down. Besides which, even incapacitated, she still did have a use or two to him. 

The arrival of the hounds had been a moment of genuine fear for Vreta. Until that point, salvation had been ahead of them, with death chasing behind. He just had to let the soldiers fight and get to their escape. Now, creatures were swarming everywhere, including the path ahead. Now, there was much less certainty for him and his own survival. He could not guarantee, or even [i]somewhat[/i] ensure, his own safety. For a Rothian, there were few things more terrifying than the loss of their eternal lives. It was only due to his training that he did not panic. He still had a way out; he just had to make sure he reached it. 

For most of his dash towards their escape, Vreta steered clear of the soldiers and let them take the attention of the growing horde of monsters. As fast as he was, he was among the first to reach the trucks, but he was not alone. The hounds were quick, and some were moving to cut them off. One climbed over the roof of the very truck he wanted to enter, while another started to circle around from his right. Fortunately, that was where his first use for his injured charge came into play. From the holster on her hip, he grabbed her sidearm and quickly fired a burst of three rounds at the hound on top of the truck. It was a fast draw, and at least one shot found its mark on center mass, but the second of the hounds was already barreling towards him as he was transferring his aim to it. The beast leaped at him, going for his throat, so Vreta guarded himself with his arm. The hound bit down hard on his forearm, but Vreta kept his composure enough to press the barrel of his pistol against the creature’s own neck and pull the trigger. 

Vreta managed to avoid getting knocked off his feet and dropped the dead hound to the ground. He grimaced at his bloody arm, but with his adrenaline pumping, he would not feel it. Yet. The greater concern would be his escape. As he moved towards the driver side door, he realized another problem. These trucks were primitive compared to Rothian vehicles, and he had seen them driven enough in his time here that he had every confidence he could drive them as well. However, he had not yet driven one, and the thought came to mind that he did not actually know how to [i]start[/i] their vehicles. He had no doubt that he could figure it out, but it would be much quicker for a Human to do it instead. 

Letting out a growl of his own, Vreta moved up to one of the rear doors of the vehicle and turned around, shouting in his distinctive voice and holding his pistol ready to fend off anymore hounds that came his way. “Over here!”