She matches Chris's wry smile, swinging her axe to rest on her shoulder. "What kinda thanks would that be, if I ditched you? You saved me, so I'll take the swing to her face and we'll both make a run for it. That should give us plenty of time to escape."

Which might turn out to be easier said than done. But she's spearheaded through danger, why should this be any different? Take the shot and make the shot, simple as that.

She sends a wary look over Chris's shoulder; into danger, into the misty unknown where darkness swirls in clouds the color of ink.

"Ready?"