A whistle of wind parting was the only sign she had.

Her body slid to the side, the metal of the rusted blade threatening to slice her arm hairs off as it passed by. She braced her legs, keeping her balance centered just like she was taught. With her body secured, she swung her blade upward, trying to hit where she determined her target was.

Her mouth curled up in satisfaction as she felt her blade dig into something hard. The creature made a chittering sound that seemed to grate into her eardrums and she could hear its feet stumble away from her in reaction. She let it, keeping her distance and letting it come to her rather than she go to it. If she moved toward it, there was every chance that she would skewer herself on a blade she could not see.

The creature chittered again, this time softly, and started stepping toward her right side. It was a tactic that many of her enemies have tried before, but she got the feeling that this creature was doing it out of reflex rather than using any form of intelligence. Again, she let it, acting as if she did not know what it was doing, baiting it to attack her recklessly. If she could parry and counter, then she could probably end this fight quickly.

A step. Another step. Then silence. It is about to-

With little sound, the attack came.

She spun on a heel, bringing her blade up to where she thought the blade was coming in from. However, instead of feeling metal against metal, she felt the rusted blade cut into her arm at a point where her armor was not covering. A hiss of breath escaped her mouth as she tried to recover, but she ended up completely turned around, unable to pinpoint where she was facing and where her target was.

Her mind started flying in a panic. Where did it go? How did I miss? What if I cannot find it again? Why was I chosen for this? Can't I just go home? Her breath started coming out in rapid bursts, loud in her ears, and she felt like bending over and puking. With major effort, she finally calmed herself down.

And when she heard the crack of stone against stone, her body froze. What was she doing? She still had an enemy to kill! With one final breath, she raised her blade again and waited.

A few moments later, her patience paid off. There was another whistle of air behind her, this one aimed for her spine. She suddenly dropped below the attack, spun around, and slashed diagonally upward. Her blade jerked twice as it passed through multiple body parts on its path. She froze in her crouched position, waited for any sign that it was still alive.

When there was nothing, Tallys stood up and let out calming breaths. Her heart was pounding audibly and her hands were shaking with unused adrenaline. She used those hands to feel around until she found a wall-like surface to slide down and sit next to. With her back against a solid object, she could feel the sweat on her underarmor clothes on her body, and the blood still trickling down her arm. Tallys was not sure if she was imagining the sound of her blood hitting the stone floor or not.

She spent the next few moments just sitting there, focusing on the silence to keep her mind from wandering. If she thought too much about what she was doing, she would run without a second thought.

She could feel the cracked stone underneath her hands, cold, moist and despite its age, sturdy. The dirt caking it in layers upon layers clung to her sweat-soaked skin, her blood from tiny cuts and her injury thickening it further. The object her back was leaning against was uneven, made of multiple poles and other straight objects. Reaching back to one of the objects let her feel rust from a blade. A weapons rack then.

Her hand then travelled to the object next to it to find a long pole. At the top of the pole was a metal helm, her fingers traveling up the rusted metal to the top where a long bunch of animal hair would have been attached. Very little remained, disintegrated from the moist air.

With a sigh, Tallys rose to her sore legs and feet. While she could still feel the blood on her arm, touching the wound revealed that there was no more blood flowing. Still, remembering her father's teachings, she wrapped a scrap of cloth from her belongings around her arm to cover the wound. Embracing the sting of pain it caused, she used her greaved foot to tap the ground twice. Once she pinpointed the exit from the room she needed, she moved on, hand tight on her sword.

Each step she took rang against the walls of the corridor, guiding her and preventing her from running into everything in front of her. When she felt as if she was getting too close to a wall or some debris on the floor, she tapped it with her blade, making sure she was correct, before she skirted to the side and readjusting herself. This made her travel slower than it would have been for anyone else, but she felt confident that she was headed in the right direction.

An hour later, she found herself at an intersection. She could hear the sounds of her taps race down a corridor to her left as well as straight ahead. From what the citizens told her, that should not be the case. Based on her path through the abandoned fort, there should have only been the path to her left. The one straight ahead was new. Maybe that's where she would find it.