Fight For Trestlebridge

It was insane. Chaotic.
The very air around was acrid.
Though with all the chaos, death and destruction around, somehow, Daphne was still fine. Everyone was still alive and so far, she'd managed to keep Furley from injury. Or, at least...he wasn't injured yet. It may not have had anything to do with her.

Trestlebridge. Foolish town. Furley had been correct that they wouldn't heed warning. Now they suffered from it with fire, explosions and swords. But Daphne couldn't dwell on their losses. She had to protect the Company. Her family.

She was somewhat surrounded, yet she didn't panic. Her instinct took over as her mind quite nearly went blank. It had to. She couldn't allow it to think over how she was taking lives, even if in defense. Not yet.

It was fine. She was mostly uninjured and they were retreating back and lighting their traps as they did. It was fine, that is, until she heard the sound of one specific arrow hitting a solid target. She turned and all helpful instinct left her.
An archer had shot Furley in the shoulder.

The rest was a haze. She was vaguely aware of Anastasiar and some man she'd never met before standing before her and Furley as she tried to tend to his wound. The screams of their adversaries and the smell of charred flesh was somehow distant for the moment. She decided to get him away from the bridge. She needed him safe.

He seemed better after she pulled him away and wrapped his shoulder. He was exhausted for sure, but not in near as concerning condition as he'd seemed before. She tended both his and the other man's wounds, somewhat oblivious to all else. She'd failed to protect him.
Her job. She'd failed. They could have hit his heart or....just...they could have killed him. Right there. He would have left the world without knowing.

Somehow, the fighting all ceased. But they didn't win. Neither side did. But Daphne felt the other side still somehow had the upper hand. This felt...too quick. Regardless, she was glad for the break and went immediately to search for more wounded.

As she confirmed they'd lost none of the members of the Company, while standing on the bridge where she'd been searching, she forgot to pay attention to her surroundings.

Though those around her shouted her name in warning, she was unaware of the man aiming his crossbow at her. Until she felt the bolt rudely make its home just below her ribs.

Pain. Acrid air. Exhaustion. Fear. Disappointment. Sorrow. Panic. Concern. Fury. The list went on for what she continued to feel. Her thoughts swirled in confusion at the shock of having a bolt lodged in her side. Though she was vaguely aware she was being tended to, the haze would not yet clear.