July 23, 2012 12:51:00 AM EDT
Ocelot had seen enough. He could be trusted. Ocelot turned, knowing one of them had probably felt his presence. Even though he was great at stealth, and a modern assassin, he knew he had to leave. He turned and ran, but in his haste, crunched some dry leaves. He mentally cursed himself. Not only had his position been compromised, but his direction and speed too if he was dealing with skilled survivors. Dietrich would probably know. He pulled out his kusarigama for defense. He would not cross blades with Dietrich now that they were friends, but if she was mad, or her other new friend chased him, he would need it.
Sylvia slumped down a tree she was leaning on and sighed looking up to Lyon. It was difficult to see him as anything but a pup. Really, in his eyes, she was the pup, at only 16 years old, a opposed to his possibly thousands. She pulled out a regular arrow and began drawing on the ground with it to take her mind off things. She had lost someone very close to her in the battle.
