The remaining townsfolk gathered behind the line of fighters. Even without understanding a word, Phaewyn knew what was happening. The fighters retreated slowly, everyone pressing towards the doors, with a few combattants in front of them, pushing the wooden gates open. A couple of them slipped outside, readying themselves on the other side of the doors, to push them closed afterwards. It was going to be difficult. They had to be fast, to slip out before they were chased. Phaewyn leaned a bit against the boy she had deemed a friend, sword in her uninjured arm.
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