*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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Emilee knew he hadn't said he was a gentleman.
Edmund nodded. "Very familiar." In fact, Edmund had never seen Fent, but now he knew that Fent was suspicious and he decided that push the familiar line.

The poor horse, covered in sweat, stopped when she saw the two horses tied to a post. She neither loudly in greeting; they, in turn, replied. Emilee looked out the open door. "Whose horse is that?"
 
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Fent rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants leg. "Okay. I kindly asked you to leave. Now go!" He hadn't meant to yell, but it came out that way.

Gwen jumped, bumping into one of Fents oil lamps, sending it crashing to the floor. She silently cursed herself.
 
CrazyChickLady7 said:
"Are you alright?" Fent asked Gwen.

"Yes, just a few scratches. Who was that? Is it safe to come out yet?" She asked.
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Emily squealed excitedly, then she slapped her hand over her mouth. She ran over to where Edmund was with the three horses. "She's–"
He interrupted her, "I know, she's in there. You stay here with the horses," he told her. She nodded.
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Fawn groaned in pain, and rolled over onto her back.
 

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