Ithacles had his hand on the hilt of his sword. He pulled cold air into his lungs and readied a shout. He was literally one blink away from announcing himself to the bandits when Vedette...fell over.
"Hh...What?"
He turned and looked at her. She looked more than frightened, she looked plain terrified. His first reaction was anger, though his face showed nothing but confusion. The woman had rocketed up the mountain as if there was free ale at the top, and here she was abandoning him at the mouth of the cave...
Oh. Caves. He had forgotten in that overtaxed head of his that she'd lost her parents in some sort of rock crush. He'd never been clear on that. Did she live in a cave? Or was it an avalanche? He didn't know of anyone--other than the ones he was about to confront--within his borders that willingly lived in a cave. There had been ogres in the guts of the mountain once. But he'd taken care of that.
"Shh," he said gently. In her fear she was threatening to raise her voice. "And do what, starve them to death? They've got more food than we do," he laughed quietly.
A quick look over his shoulder. No changes in the noises within. They weren't living near the mouth of the cave where the wind could whip in, torture and slice them with its sharp, frigid tongue. Ithacles shivered--at the thought, and at the dust of shimmering powdery snow that caressed his neck.
He thought it was odd that she'd worn makeup, turning back to meet her gaze.
"We're at the point of action, soldier. I won't be able to do this alone, especially with a mage. I need someone to stick an arrow in him if he doesn't surrender, alright?"