The blizzard provided Pounder with everything he needed to escape the first few volleys. It took him only seconds after he’d fired his crossbow to realize that he had put himself in a vulnerable position, and had no problem with turning tail and running until he was safe towards the back of the rampaging hoard. For once, he was glad for Karuka. Because of her, it seemed that the rest of the people seemed to have no problems with throwing their bodies into the middle of a battle.

With the snow flurries, it was easy enough for Pounder to escape. He knew that he could be strategic with his choices now, and that he’d need to be. He might have been a killer, but that didn’t make him a soldier. Once in the clear, he loaded up his crossbow again and began to size up the battle.

In the blizzard, it was hard enough to see anything, and Pounder really wondered what the church’s archers could do. He had heard Markham call out to him earlier to take them down, but he had wanted to get a bit of safety first. When it was all said and done, the cat man figured he’d be able to justify his actions, whatever they were. Now, it was just a priority to survive.

Pounder’s eyes narrowed as he searched the snowy landscape in front of him. He could barely make out people, but the colors of the bloodied, tired passengers were often much darker than the light ones worn by the clerics. It gave Pounder just the edge he needed to make sure that he wasn’t drawing friendly fire.

The only problem was, the feline didn’t know if he was setting himself up to be a target from his enemies by standing so far away from the rest of his group. It would have been difficult for the church archers to really get anyone in the fray without taking on the risk of friendly fire. However, as he stood in the back, he realized he was alone. And by being alone, he was vulnerable.

An arrow careened through the sky, and it whizzed narrowly by Pounder’s ear, confirming his fear. The hitman only waited a second to fire off a bolt before ducking behind some of the firewood that had been collected earlier. From there, he figured he’d be shielded while he attacked. Another two arrows flew into the wood, both of them from different directions.

“They see me better than I see them,” Pounder thought. He fired another bolt in the general direction of one of the archers, hoping that, at the very least it would cause his foe some consternation. He began to search for some way to draw the archers out, make them do something that would cause them to reveal themselves.

Soon, he realized what he needed to do. Wait the arrows out, but keep looking forward. Eventually, if they realized they were hitting firewood, they would use flaming arrows. “If they’re religious types, they have to have holy fires or holy magics or something…” Pounder thought. He kept shooting, but this time, he targeted any member of the Ethereal Sway he could find. He knew he had to at least kill a few of them if he was going to push the archers to use their flaming arrows.

He kept his eyes trained for the first flash of flame. His eyes bore over the battle eagerly, and the moment that he saw it, he fired. Almost immediately after, there was a second flame coming from the other direction. Pounder fired again.

The hitman waited a few seconds to move from his position, but soon it was confirmed. There were no more arrows coming towards him.