Octavius ran over next to her, and Mary had to resist the urge to scoot back away. "Hands off," she snapped, jerking out of his grasp and ducking down on her own. "No man touches me, understand?" They had no time to go over that though, and she listened for a break in the firepower, trying to identify the guns in the process.

As far as she could tell, the Rangers only had one big rifle, and it fired slow but heavy. Two more single-shot guns, that she could pick out, and then two guns firing faster. She didn't care to poke her head out of cover to see, though.

Listening to him lay out a plan, she forced herself to admit that he was smarter than she was, probably by quite a bit, and that she shouldn't dismiss his ideas simply because he was a he. "Let me go first, I'm the fastest," the Khan suggested, drawing her two pistols. "I can give you cover fire once I reach the rocks."

She got into a tense crouch, waiting for the Legionary's signal, and then broke out at a dead sprint when he gave the word. Firing both guns at once she covered the distance quickly, NCR bullets following her the whole way. In the distance, a cry of pain; had she actually struck one of them?!

No time to worry about it though. She was at the rocks, and crouching behind she aimed around the corner and fired at the NCR position, hopefully to distract them from her temporary allies. Kaw's question from before echoed in her mind, and she pushed it away. She was having fun! What did she need reasons for anyway?!

Why did she recoil as if his very touched burned? He tucked his hands in neatly afterward, and an embarrassed grimace overtook his face. “My apologies,” he would utter, before taking charge of the war-zone they had mixed themselves into.

He watched as the Khan sprinted for cover as instructed, following orders like a trueborn soldier, firing her pistols off at the enemy on their main line—two, perhaps three, in that direction, one less now that her shot had been true. It must have been a recruit that was felled, he hoped they had died, but it could not have been a ranger; they were the very brutal strength of the NCR, the heel with which they aimed to crush their adversaries, and the only reason the NCR was able to resist drowning under their own gluttony and fatness.

Mary had made her position established, and would offer them suppressing fire in the direction of the big gun (considering the rangers were always compensating for little pricks). Octavius then turned his attention to the woman of the Southern Utes, who had not joined the Khan on the safe side of the fray. He pivoted quickly, and shot an arrow at one of the approaching rangers’, striking him in his trigger-arm; he was shrieking, but that did not stop the second ranger from seizing the tribeswoman. The men under the sign of the Bear were aggressive, mean, holding her against her will—and Octavius knew what they oft did to women, robbing them of their maidenhood, and discarding them with the common trash.

“Nōlī!” he shouted, imposing a command on the profligate, as he quickly closed the distance between he and the tribeswoman. He approached from the front, facing Kaw, and grabbed the arm of the ranger nearest to him—he already held his blade, and drew nearer as the time was waning that the other ranger would be incapacitated. “Breathe, Kaw,” he said firmly, and sunk the blade hard into the side of the ranger before he could turn against the legionary himself. It did not kill him, but it would force him to release her, as he squalled like a child in pain, and tried to close the open wound on his side.

“You fucking bastard!” the ranger cried dropping to his knees, trying to grab his handgun with wet hands, “fuck your Caesar, fuck you!”

Octavius grabbed the ranger again, “A wolf is not afraid of a barking dog.” He opened the ranger’s throat, releasing his soul from his mortal coil; the tangy black liquid drenched his clothing and armour, and spilled into the wasteland dirt. The man gargled his own blood, coughing, reaching lethargically for his wound, before Octavius let him drop to the ground.

The other ranger, though, had put the legionary in his sights, and shot him in the shoulder. Of course, the wound smarted, and the young wolf winced and even perhaps whimpered slightly—but he had been hurt much worse before, and that seemed to be all the gut that the recruit had to strike him in the open field; he sought cover, and Octavius saw a moment to check on both Mary and Kaw. “How do you fare?” he asked of her, reaching to comfort her by a gentle touch with his uninjured arm.

He would also ask after the Khan, “Have they moved, Mary? Keep them at bay,” at least until he could get Kaw back into cover. “We have to move, before that recruit reloads his weapon, and before we both are shot.” Again, he thought begrudgingly.

Octavius came to Kaw’s rescue, and she dropped to her knees when the soldier released her. Scrambling to her feet, she ran for cover with the Decanus. Again they sought shelter behind some rocks, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Absentmindedly, the tribeswoman rubbed at her shoulder; surely it would bruise from the rough hold the soldier had on her. Bastard.

She looked at Octavius and merely nodded at his question, but that was when she noticed the blood seeping through his clothing. Kaw hadn’t even realized he’d been shot, but he took a bullet for her. Why? “You’re hurt,” she said, reaching out to him, but she quickly redrew her hand when she realized what she was doing.

Their small moment was interrupted by a spray of gunfire, and Kaw spotted Mary in a distance, the NCR ranger closing in on her. She appeared paralyzed with fear, which Kaw understood all too well. “We must go to her,” she said, and without thinking, the tribeswoman ran to her aid. It was a foolish move, because a machine gun could tear through her, but she would no longer be a victim.

Drawing her machete on the ranger, she cried out, and drove her blade into his torso before he could turn on her. The man crumpled to the ground, bleeding profusely from his wound, and she placed her foot over his chest, effectively pinning him down. But out in the open, that left her vulnerable to further attacks…

Mary could see the look in the Ranger's eye, the same look that had been in the eyes of the men twenty years ago. Do something! she screamed at herself, you're not 13 years old anymore! But her body didn't believe that, and all she could do was crouch there, watching him with fear in her eyes as he advanced.

But then Kaw appeared, drove a blade through his chest, pinned him down with her foot. "Huh?" the Khan muttered, blinking, breathing hard. "Wha-?" He was dead; Kaw had killed him, Kaw had saved her. She was safe, and it was all thanks to the tribal.

Octavius appeared too, and he said something, but it was a distant buzzing in her ears. He knelt down to pick her up, and for some reason she let him. He didn't have that look on his face, after all, he wasn't gonna hurt her. Hopefully. Everything was just buzzing, until he put her down behind more rocks farther on, hopefully closer to the NCR position.

For a moment she just sat there blinking, then she took a long, shaky breath. "You saved me," she said in a hoarse voice, staring at Kaw. "You killed him, you saved me." She pushed herself up, reached out toward Kaw; if Kaw didn't push her off, Mary would give her a tight hug, a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you," she would whisper in Kaw's ear.

Demons had noosed Mary he knew, but he held his tongue, not wanting to bring more unrest to her tormented soul. Perhaps he felt it would be politer to be silent, or that he did not know how to comfort someone when for the same thing to a fellow soldier he would be dismissed and chastised. But her haunts had struck her frozen on the field of their battle, cast a shadow behind her eyes, and though she carried on with a feigned strength—he saw through this now, and judged her for her fragility.

And how now could he protect these gentle things, that dawdled like pearly doves in the brimstone pits of their hell? He shivered, cracking the knuckles on his yet working arm, and looked at Kaw. “My heart is glad you are well, both of you,” he said, emphatically. “Look now how there is only two,” he said, nodding over the rock, where the last remaining ranger and a recruit advanced forward on them, the ranger haplessly touting his AM rifle. He lowered himself, gesturing for the women to be closer and stay down.

“I would prefer that you remain here,” Octavius stated this firmly, nose crinkling preemptively as he assumed they would protest. But they had shown where their sex failed them, why Caesar insisted they were wives and mothers, why the priestesses best raised his legionaries. He clenched his hand around his shoulder, gently touching his fingertips to the gunshot wound—such a mild scratch would not let the NCR prevail, surely, he thought.

The tribeswoman did not have time to listen to Mary and Octavius bicker, so she took it upon herself to act. The Khan-girl was clearly irritated at Octavius’ white knight syndrome, but Kaw simply ignored it – she would do as she pleased.

In her white hot rage, Mary let loose an arrow that tore out the soldier’s throat. That left the last remaining NCR ranger, who quickly and foolishly advanced on their position. “Stop,” she said to Mary, reaching out for her. If she would allow it, Kaw would pull her back before she stepped out into the open.

“Let the fool come to us, death’s hands are already closed around his throat,” she said, glancing over at Octavius to see what he would do in response to the taunts.