Slipping through the foliage, Alanna silently stalks the third man. He hadn't looked nearly injured enough for her peace of mind. Fingers closing tightly around her knife, she sticks to the shadows, nimbly leaping over puddles, and doesn't show the slightest surprise when the man reemerges with murder in his eyes.

The bullet had only scraped his neck, and once the initial shock passed, he had regrouped easily enough. Gun in hand, he shakes his pants leg free of clinging thorns and charges their hiding place.

Alanna is behind him, two knives in hand now. Her gun, after all, has no silencer.

Thump. Thump.

One on the shoulder, one in the ass. She's running as soon as the second one leaves her hand, quickly retrieving both.

It's a pity he cries out in pain.