Running the Gauntlet - Part 3

Ruby creeps towards the edge of the slope, getting down on her haunches which makes her recently used marathon muscles ache when put into a new position. There's the remnants of an old chair and broken table nearby, and she places her hand upon a corner of that to help steady wobbly-muscles while lowering herself to reduce her silhouette. Peering out from under her brows, she tugs idly at the armband bearing a stylized 'x', which denotes buried treasure presumably within her bicep.
Both sides seem to be under some sort of stay of hostilities. However, there are plenty of preparations going on. Past tents and holes in the ground and pillboxes is the milling of ant-like formations. Drills and maintenance and absolutions work to different rythmns and directed by individuals with an air of authority. To anyone with military training, many common trappings and martial aspects of prolonged warfare are visible.

Maggie does not release Merrisol's hand instantly, but only after a slight squeeze and a smile just for him. As she turns to survey the battlefield in the valley beyond the slope just climbed, that smile dies away. Her gaze sweeps left, then right, assessing, evaluating... All that loss of life... She does note Ruby's sensible, if painful motion to mask her shape from below or beyond, but can't quite get there, yet. Her military training is not as good as others, though coupled with politics and a smattering of trade, she can see the way things sit fairly well. Finally, she releases the hands she is holding and, doggedly ignoring aching muscles and complaining joints, she sinks lower and moves closer to Ruby, "Is the plan to skirt the field and enter the ... castle... from the side? Or is there a way for us to stop this madness?"

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