Board Thread:RolePlay/@comment-2600:8807:1C01:A199:B0A2:418:7893:D42F-20191227042317/@comment-44390494-20191229033412

Ezra kept sending arrow after arrow, sand burst and more sand the repeat. She knew she couldn't hang on much longer; her shoulder ached from pulling the bow's string back so fast, and her bruised sand-encrusted hands made it even harder to wrip the arrow without it slipping towards the ground. She was covered in small scratches and dried blood, and a small trickle of sweat trailed down her forehead as she fought against the pain and continued battling for dear life.

But she finally dragged behind.

Someone grabbed her from her back and threw her towards the soggy grass. Her bow slipped from her hands as she plummeted towards the ground, letting out a loud wince when her head hit the hard terrain. The figure attempted to stab her with a dagger as it pinned her down, but she still had enough brain to fling her head in the opposite direction.

(Man, she needs help.)