[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HX9chmu.png[/img][/center]
If not for Vammy’s warning, things would be different.

Different, but perhaps only in circumstance.

Bowstrings thrummed, and Atzi imposed herself before those that she sought to keep alive, red eye alight with fury that had an enemy. Her wooden club caught three of the arrows, staccato thumps felt in her hand, and two more scattered against the boulder behind them, snagged upon the cloak that she swung up to intercept. She caught the sixth shot in her left forearm, letting out a roar of pain as adrenaline surged in once more, that miracle drug that grant strength to the fatigued, relief for the pained.

The first volley passed, but any archer worth their salt could fire the next within seconds. Hiding behind the boulder just meant they could better organize and maneuver, corral and flank. Running away was worse; it would be like being asked to be shot in the back or hunted down for hours on end. There was, as always, just one route ahead. As with wolves, as with bears, as with monsters, as with humans, she would fight until she died. Atzi grit her teeth and clenched her left fist.

[b]“Vammy, cover!”[/b]

And with a lion’s roar, the wild woman charged forth up the incline, prepared to snap their bows and break their bones.