The four Bandits catched at their weapons. Steel, not clubs like the overseer. Bob and his companions started to attack them. Fire, arrows and shiny blades. The stealth approach had failed, so I stretched my wings and did a half jump, half flight towards two of the foes. In total shock, the two humans could do nothing against my rage. I kicked them to the ground and lacerated both. I felt strength, wrath and relief, but my wings ached.

The trio had problems with the remaining two outlaws; one of them yelled constantly for help. And there they came - the whole bandit group. They emerged at the western gate. Maybe a dozen mortals, with weapons of all kind. Hatchets, hammers, swords, spears, bows, even wood slats. Half of them seems to be human. My rage was intense. 

But I knew we couldn't take on that many foes. We had been near the eastern gate, so I and the trio ran towards it. Panic emerged from the refugees, and slowly it started to get chaotic in the camp. The outlaws splitted up between us and the remaining. 

As we ran out of the gate, the Fairyblood got cold, and I fainted suddenly. No more power. The last thing I saw was the varg and alb supporting me.