Bat out of hell (2/3)
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This is an open ended scene, without context or resolution.

The multitude of startled birds faded out before long, as the Knight made good time.  The terrain became unexpectedly rugged though, and before long there were scouts reaching the hillside.

How much fun a rogue could have had.  It made the knight seriously consider her armor.  A moment of hesitation invites unwelcome guests, however the likes of bandits weren’t above that.  An average melee hollered in dismay as he fell into an all too similar trap.

One by one, the knight actually had a pretty sound foothold.  The ridge provided higher ground and enough freedom of movement to serve in a pinch.  There was something profoundly satisfying, pinning barbarians like insects.

It was almost enough to end the chase, but for that blasted archer.  The thump of an iron bolt jarred the knight out of her groove.  Enough for a grunt to worm loose, and for to take heed of those attempting to flank her.

At that point, it was an uphill battle.  By the time she got to the top of it, her hair was matted with sweat and a number of fresh scuffs decorated limbs.  Her chainmail had cracked during the late exchange, and with renewed haste she swept her way down the hillside.

At this point her pursuers were haggard and sluggish.  As shrewd as a cornered wolf anywhere, but clearly resigning their mark.

It was the last stretch to open plains.  They really had no chance of catching up with her.  A wire snapped, and her heart sank.  A brief creak, and then a shaft of timber swung from her left side.  She barely had time to react, and the ram caught her across the midriff all the same, driving the wind from her lungs.

The knight’s visions swam, and her equilibrium stuttered.  What might have been spasms turned out to be a pair of hands latching onto each arm, and a burly set on her neck.  The muffled chatter came into focus just to catch the words.

“Serves you right for what you did to my drinking buddy.”