Blade laughed-briefly. The situation was ludicrous, and it wasn't entirely surprising. This woman was of another race than the soldiers, a race not entirely human.

Why should she necessarily speak the soldiers' language merely because Blade's brain could now handle it?

The situation was also dangerous. He and the woman were facing a desperate flight for their lives without being able to understand a single word from each other. This wouldn't be completely impossible, but there were easier ways to manage it.

Well, let's start somewhere, he thought. Sign language certainly wouldn't do any harm. He pointed at himself and said very slowly, «Richard Blade.»

The woman nodded, managed a faint smile, and pointed at herself. «Riyannah.»

Blade smiled, then pointed at the forest around them with what he hoped would be an inquiring look on his face. They had to get out of here as fast as they could, and he wanted her advice on the best route.

He had to repeat the gesture three times. Then Riyannah nodded and pointed at the bushes behind her. Blade matched her gesture and her smile broadened. So they were to retrace the path she and her dead comrades had followed? Well, the bushes would certainly hide them from any more soldiers.

Riyannah didn't need Blade's gesture to start pulling on the clothes he'd brought for her. She winced at nearly every movement and couldn't always hold back a gasp of pain. Blade decided he'd do some first aid on her as soon as they could risk stopping. Riyannah might not have any serious injuries, but she was certainly bruised, battered, and probably on the edge of shock. He found another canteen with water in it and handed it to Riyannah, then started scavenging the battlefield for useful gear.

He collected as much as he thought he could carry, then pulled on the loaded pack. By the time he'd finished getting ready to move out, Riyannah was nearly dressed. She'd managed to salvage her own boots, and was slinging on a rifle, ammunition pouches, and a small rucksack of her own.