It was surprising to see that the man had enough energy to flip over, let alone pull his sword out of his scabbard. The tip of the blade came at her, and she duck under the incoming blow. Ambra was going to say something to calm the man down, but the sword swung toward her once more. He was exhausting himself further—something that she couldn’t allow. If she did, then the man would die. He was already bleeding out too much. The woman took his arm and easily disarmed him. The sword fell to the floor and she remained grabbing at his forearm. After a while, she glanced down at him. [i]He’s more wounded than I expected. Younger, too.[/i] 

[b]”I have to get you to an inn.”[/b] she told him, her voice brisk and shallow. It was obvious that she didn’t think that they should linger for much longer. [b]”But you’re going to have to let me help. You’re going to die if we don’t hurry.”[/b]