Scooping up a fallen cathar's mace, she throws herself at the dire. Muscles can lend you all the power they want, but joints will always be weak. He's too busy wailing on his would-be victims to notice the mace coming for the back of his knee. She puts her weight into the blow; a howl and crunch are her rewards. The dire falters, turns, and the cathars stand behind him.

The dire's snarling. Human though his shape may be, the eyes give him away; they're half-changed already, along with his too-long fangs. "You. Tovolar's favorite."

Arlinn scowls. "You don't know anything about me," she answers, hefting the mace. "Get out of here while you can. This isn't a battle you're going to win."

His laugh rumbles out from within his massive chest and distracts him from the coming swords of the cathars. The first through his leg does not stagger him, but the second in his already injured knees sends him howling. The third, between his ribs, bows him but not before he grabs the too-close head of the third cathar in his massive hands.

***

EPISODE 4: HARVESTIDE