A muted roar grew until sound came crashing back in a tidal wave, almost knocking Robin off his feet with the sudden intensity of life ending around him. Brutal cries running their owner's throats raw ceased in wet coughs and bubbled out until nothing. The sound of steel clashing against steel rang through his ears, building into a metallic whine that reached a fever pitch and almost drove him mad right there and then.
Staggering to his feet, he could barley find traction against the slick ground, the rain pelting against him working to keep him on his knees. The effort was enough to bring attention to the pain pulsing at his temple, and Robin gingerly brought his fingers to his head. His hair didn't have the cool dampness of the rain, but the warmth of blood, running into his stark hair and dyeing it a shade pink.
Vague recollections of him leading a squad to scout Walhart's territory drifted back, and he grimaced, realizing that they'd been ambushed. And it looked like the event had escalated into a skirmish, one that the Shepherds were probably going to pay heavily for unless they could regroup. Gritting his teeth, he figured that he should be grateful that whoever had taken a swing at him had used the flat of their blade against his temple.
He was further into the territory than he remembered trekking to, and he summed that one of his party had dragged him to cover before going for help. And seeing as reinforcements had made it fast enough to engage the enemy, they'd made it. However, as no one had come back for him, he had worries for whoever had saved him. Robin peeled back his gloves, shoving them into one of the many pockets that lines his cloak, and was grateful to find that he still had a tome on him.
Bent on making it back to camp alive, he took a slow inhale before stepping out of the rocky overhang he'd been using as cover. Off the bat he saw three armored units in his range, and Robin wordlessly let the tome fall open in his hands and watched as the pages frantically flipped on their own accord, and he let the familiar magic pool in his hand before firing off a barrage at the enemy. They never saw it coming.
Wiping some water from his face, Robin felt a little better. "At least we're even now." He may have been a bit bitter about falling for a sneak attack, and allowed himself a moment before moving his aching body as fast as it could to better cover. It was difficult, with unfriendly faces popping up too often, and finding friendlies facedown as he backtracked. He had managed to meet mounted members of his original scouting party, and though they offered to take him back to camp, Robin shook his head. "Get word out to the rest of the field to fall back, we have no idea how many of Walhart's are still out there." With the Valm campaign just beginning, they wouldn't afford to lose much on what was supposed to be preliminary scouting. The cavaliers were reluctant to go, but finally did, leaving the tactician to make his own.
But he was a demon masked in the pale glowing green of text called from a tome swirling endlessly around a hand that could end a life with the flick of the wrist. "Damned if they take me." Snarling, more to himself than anyone, Robin made quick work of another foe who had the misfortune of crossing his path.
He didn't hear the faint whistling of the projectiles hurtling his way, and was only aware the second after several javelins made impact with shrubbery a bit away from him. He figured that if anyone was aiming for him, they could have hit him, and squinted up at the sky. The rain certainly didn't make things easier, but he'd have to be blind to miss the red hair, and figure out who it belonged to.
"Cordelia! Did you miss me?" Beaming, Robin felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Help had arrived, and more importantly, he didn't have to trudge his way all the way back to camp.
Her pegasus landing on the wet ground, Cordelia reined her mount in, a less than amused look on her face. "I never miss. The high ground gives you quite a few advantages. A better view and shot at enemies that you wouldn't normally be able to see." As she spoke the pegasus knight offered Robin her hand, ready to pull the muddied tactician onto the pristine pegasus. "And more importantly, of fools who get themselves lost in the middle of a country they haven't even been in for more than a week."
Unphased, Robin took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up. "Well, always good to see you too." If she was nagging him, it probably meant that she was more worried than angry. He let her fuss over the state of his clothes, he was being all too cheery about being picked up in the middle of a battle field, and just what happened to your head? Laughing with a mix of relief and exhaustion, Robin let his forehead rest against the cool plating of her armor. "Thank you."