To Ramdenbull. Neima was not very comfortable with the name. The forest was dark, and her light skin seemed to almost glow as she thought deep into her past. She'd trained herself to forget as much as she could of where she'd been before, as it only weighed her down. She dropped the subject in her mind.
The man, Cammile, seemed rather suspicious. Frankly, she still didn't trust Thedric, and could not be to blame for they had just met. Her tattered black tank and jeans were not much protection in case of any fight between her and any other member of the party. Cammile seemed even more dangerous. Although Thedric practiced "dark" magic, he seemed more friendly and much more open then Cammile, who said next to nothing about his where-abouts in the dark and gloomy forest.
As they got closer to the break line of the tree's, Neima heard something rather peculiar. Thedric and Cammile seemed lost in thought given talking would be a rather stupid action. She slung her small pack open quietly and pulled out a her thick leather jacket, hoping it would offer more protection. Then she unsheathed her dagger from it's pouch on her belt. Making eye contact with her allies, she walked slowly toward the noise.
"We march . . . " As Neima moved closer she realized what it was. "It" was really an army of Daedrian grunts. Except for that these "grunts" were much larger and looked heavily equipped. They immediately saw the trio and started running for them.
"RUN!" Neima knew keeping quiet would do nothing now. Running would help to at least get them to a better location for fighting, but a battle would be inevitable. The forest seemed like the best option, so she was off. Running like a mad man, hoping the boys would follow or die because idiots are of no use in war.