[center][h2][color=bc8dbf]J[/color]unia [color=bc8dbf]P[/color]hillipa [color=bc8dbf]M[/color]axima[/h2][/center][hr] Truth be told, Junia was exhausted. Her journey back to Rome has been a harrowing one. They liked to say that all roads led there. Yet, it had seemed as if all led [i]from [/i]the great city. She could've sworn she'd been the only soul heading towards it - a profoundly unsettling feeling to be sure. It had been nearly a week's worth of stealth, sudden terror, and fighting. In her head, she'd told herself that it was just like those games of hide-and-seek she'd played with her brothers and sisters as a child, but the stakes were life or death and there was no missing that. Then, after she'd made it back to the Palatine against staggering odds, hoping to find dear Fabius and Quintus alive, an overenthusiastic sentry had nearly skewered her with a spear. She vaguely remembered her boastful jest at the the time that she knew that she looked half-dead and surely felt it but, just as surely, was not yet ready to be counted among the mortui.

She'd had a day to search and recover, but it had hardly been restful. Her dear ones were yet missing and she felt aches in parts of her body that she had not previously known even existed. Already, she had been engaged as a scout and skirmisher, her almost-preternatural quickness and stealth an asset, yet she felt the skepticism of these men on the front lines - so many of them ex-legionnaires, so many rugged and brawny, gruff and hardened. They were not unkind. They simply had not yet accepted her as one of them and might never do so. That was no matter. Junia had her part to do even if, in her heart of hearts, she had begun to suspect she had made herself into a trapped rat in the name of a lost cause. [color=bc8dbf][i]Best to burn the city, the dead, and everybody in it at this point,[/i][/color] she thought. [color=bc8dbf][i]Flee to the countryside in small groups, and hunt down the mortui gradually.[/i][/color] Her personal feelings on the matter weren't of much consequence, though. She would spend some days here and perhaps longer if the situation improved but, if not, she would risk herself again. Better to die trying to live than holed up and waiting to die. She'd make a break for it. She'd done so once and could do it again or so she tried to convince herself. 

Casca, the ex-centurion with the bad hand, put that whistle in his mouth that she'd heard before. She knew what it meant when he blew it. Junia hopped up onto the barricade, gladius in hand, nerves on fire, scanning the burgeoning wave of mortui and trying not to project a sense of courage and belief that she did not truly feel.