The victim of Vakarr's verbal onslaught listened to his words with a mixture of shame and rage. Everything he said was absolutely true: she hadn't protected Oleg, had the foresight to watch her own feet carefully enough to avoid a trap, or possessed the strength to rescue the unconscious Meara. However, she'd never asked to be a leader--only someone who stayed in front of the Purge! "I'm no telepath," she hissed through clenched teeth, "and cannot divine the future. All I have is my...connection," Per'dra said, pausing because she didn't want to reveal the name of the Great Wyrm while the archers above were listening. "All I want is to stay alive and ahead of the Purge!"
"SILENCE!" shouted a voice from above, and an arrow flew at Per'dra.
However, against the Dark Elf's wildest calculations, the Bard caught it.
Instead of tossing the arrow back into the treetops toward the archer who had fired it, however, she balanced it carefully in her fingertips, intending to jab it into the slit in Vakarr's helmet that revealed his eyes. If necessary, she'd gouge at least one of them out! An infernal fury coursed through her veins--the same fury that she'd felt when she'd been continually insulted and underestimated by her "betters" in the slums of Paryer. Was Vakarr the same as they were? He was certainly cold, disdainful, and calculating. However, did he possess the same cruelty? She suddenly remembered the noble who'd attempted to--No. Not now. We're under a stalled attack, fool!
The arrow Per'dra clenched in her fist was a mere flick away from Vakarr's right eye. Surprisingly, he wasn't springing to attack her in return. Instead, his stance remained planted, as if to ward off a shield bash. Not even a gale could knock him over, the Bard suspected, if it suddenly happened along! Making a split-second decision, she snapped the arrow clean in half instead of using it to make her opponent lose half of his sight. Disgusted with herself, she flung the halves away:
"You say I'm weak and pathetic, Vakarr. Fine. At least I'm sensible enough not to wound someone who is supposed to be my ally, no matter how much I wanted to right now. What do you suggest I do?" Pause. "I'm asking honestly, since the Dark Elves didn't want to let me into their city either." She was shocked at how much she sincerely meant this; she'd intended to be as haughty as her friend-turned-foe. Still, her berserker's rage was not abating easily. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
"Milady?" That was Meara. "I could whip this arse-hole's hind end if you won't."
Per'dra's head swiveled nearly all the way around. "Sorry-no. Stand down."