Especially given how injured Val still is; she hasn't really had the blood washed off, and it's easy enough to make it look like she lost her arm. Beyond a Healer's usual help, even when the Second Army has the time and attention to spare.

She's worried about Svetka. But she takes a seat on the floor of the wagon with a grim look on her face all the same, her rifle tucked out of sight in easy reach.

She listens, too, tries to catch any ambushes before they happen - but she's rapidly developing a splitting headache, and it's hard to focus - 

She still gets a creeping sense of unease - certain birds are being unusually quiet or loud, and not in the way they'd be if they were only recently spooked by the approaching wagon - there's something about the lay of the land here that itches in the back of her teeth - 

So, naturally, she shifts forward, keeps low, and hisses, "Possible ambush ahead," in a low tone that just barely carries over the wagon's noise.

(They're very close to the outpost they were going to switch off at. Likely not close enough for immediate reinforcements, though.)

Her instincts were good last time. Elvira alerts the guards.

And then the gunshots start.

She didn't get as much warning this time - fuck, she can't slip - 

Val gets her riffle up, though, takes a deep breath - 

And picks off the first of the Fjerdan sharpshooters.

There's a lot - a good sized ambush party of Drüskelle - and both of the guards had been disguised grisha, but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerously outnumbered, here. 

The battle is at least rather loud, and one of the guards manages to get up a flare before he catches a bullet in the neck - but they'd need quite a lot of luck to get reinforcements in time. 

The small size of their party means that Elvira is not holding back on her attacks. A hurricane gust whips up a spray of dirt and moldering leaves, knocking Fjerdan aim awry- then a scythe of wind topples a pair of trees on their position.

She's making quite the dent, especially with Val covering her position -

But the Drüskelle know how to fight Squallers, even powerful ones unleashing the full force of their abilities. A sharpshooter covering Elvira, even an unnaturally accurate one, isn't enough to offset that.

Two of them make it to melee range; one of those falls to Val's bullet - two take his place. They're clearly focusing on separating the three women - at least once they realize Svetka is there, hidden under a tarp Val had thrown over her - if they can't kill them on the spot.

Even if her kefta is bulletproof, she still feels the impacts. Elvira is knocked from her perch.

Svetka opens her eyes, blearily.

There's a large hand on her ankle, grip hard as iron - dragging her out of the wagon as two of her assailant's allies corner Val - 

Svetka is hitting the ground almost before she gets her eyes open.

Scream!

And thrash, try to kick the man, reach for a knife-

He's over her, and she can't get to a knife before he's pinning her arms with his leg, raising an axe above his head as he curses her for being a witch - 

And then a flicker of shadow falls across Svetka's vision, and a thin line of blood bursts from the man's chest as it passes - 

And then his body splits along that line as he half collapses back, his upper torso falling to the ground separately from the rest of him. (An awful lot more blood spreads as his heart fails.)

There's people screaming around them, in fear and pain. 

Wh- what?

She slowly props herself up to look.

She's on a dirt road in the scraggly sort of forest you get on the edges of the plains around the fold. There's men in armor and furs scattered about, dead.

There's the Darkling in a long black coat, expression intense as shadow boils around her hands before it lashes into one last Drüskelle as he tries to flee. He dies with a choked off scream.

There's someone in the wagon at her head, a foot sliding against wood - and Val's voice calling out, "Svetka!"

She's too busy staring at the Darkling to respond to or even really register Val's call at all.

Val gets to where she can see her friend then slumps with a soft, "Thank the Saints."

And the Darkling turns to look at them - and strides over. She looks at Svetka for a long, intense moment - then turns her gaze to Elvira. "Colonel, report."

"The drüskelle were waiting for us, sir. They knew our route, and they knew she was in the carriage."

"Concerning."

"I'll escort you the rest of the way to the Little Palace - and the horses will be faster than a carriage, besides, but I'll need to reconsider the exact route we take."

"Will there be more reinforcements from the outpost to deal with the bodies?"

"Yes. We're moving on ahead of them."

She nods, and goes to collect the horses.

Svetka has recovered enough to hug Val.

Tight squeeze!

"Saints, I was so worried," she says into Svetka's hair.