Sachia dismounted from her horse in one swift motion, drawing her knight's longsword from her waist.
Now the crowded mountain path was littered with burning canvases and carriage frames. Ordinary horses, lacking the training of warhorses, still held an advantage in mobility, but had become unreliable in control.
You never knew if these frightened horses, in a panic, might charge headlong into the mountain gorge with their riders.
The Squirrel Faction was charging down from the high ground beside the mountain path.
Among them were dwarves, elves, and a few half-elves wielding short swords and daggers.
A dwarf swung his axe, aiming to use his low stature advantage to sweep and chop off the female warrior's ankle, or smash it through the armor.
If Lann were here, he would probably have lifted his front foot at just the right moment, narrowly letting the axe blade scrape beneath.
But Sachia, though excellent in both vision and technique, couldn't quite match Lann's level.
