Az was well out of her depth, and damned if she didn't know it.
It felt like everything was happening too fast, even for her thief's reflexes: darkspawn in the woods and an all-out assault, moments that flashed by like nightmare tidbits when she tried to summon the exact sequence of events to the forefront of her thoughts (slash duck dive and the bite of the dagger-handles into her palm, sweat prickling the back of her neck stench of blood and death) and then Conlan had been bitten at some point, had charged headlong into the amassing horde. She must have shouted, she remembered shouting at him for being an idiot - but then it was over, and there was a girl in a tree and Dalish emerging from the woods, and Azabeth was left standing with weapons in hand, breath shallow and hair in disarray, looking and feeling rather silly for the whole thing.
There'd been a moment where she thought her infamous luck would turn on her again, as treacherous as sandy ground twisting beneath an unfortunate ankle. But everyone - Conlan aside - seemed to have come through alright (her panicked eyes swept the assembled company until she found Lalin, safe and sound) and Az knelt to wipe darkspawn blood from her blades onto the fallen leaves, remembering that Matt had told her once that the stuff was poison, acidic enough even to eat away at the metal of a weapon. She was thusly crouched, balanced effortlessly on the balls of her feet with her elbows rested on her thights, warily eyeing the Dalish, and just close enough to hear Hissra's comment.
"They know Faer?" she added under her breath, red brows climbing up her forehead. She dusted her palms together, rose to her full height on the strength and balance of her legs alone, and made movement to assume her place at Lalin's side. No one seemed to have noticed how willing she had been to run to Conlan's aid, especially Conlan himself, and she was going to keep things that way for as long as possible. "La!" she stage-whispered as she moved. "What in the nine hells is going on?"