Shnk! Meliadoul yanked her blade from the corpse over heavy breaths. She looked around in the dark desert night, her breaths weighed heavy apon her , and the cold was no forgiving gesture of how the rest of the night she would spend. She glanced to Tom, the young lad who tried his hand a swordplay, he was the first to die, a spear in his gullet. She looked around towards the left, Leroy, the Caravan master with axe in him like a split log, She stood up straight, glancing around towards the horses, 'least where they were last seen. They must have fled in the conflict. Meliadoul grunted, and finishing cleaning her blade. She looked towards the distance, and moved into the dark, her wounds weighing heavy, although not heavy enough. She would live to see the rest of the night, She will never bite the dust till she dies. She had a cut above her brow, it was rather annoying, she shook her head in an attempt to null the pain with thought, As Meliadoul looked towards the Moon, She heard horses gallop through the desert. She quickly turned unsheathing her blade and taking pflug stance. 'More bandits? Great' She thought, The dessert was no forgiving place, you would rob one man only to be robbed by another. Like a game of tag someone was always 'it'. She saw more and more horses run over the dune, adorning Black cloaks fluttering in the wind, curved blades that shun in the night, 20 of them... Meliadoul was surrounded, the horses circling her, she took stance, ready to prepare for the worst.
