Kumoe's right head barked, and a hooked blade cut through the rain toward her throat.
Alexandra caught it between both swords. The impact buried her boots in the mud and sent a shock through her arms hard enough to loosen her grip.
Before she could trap the hook between her blades, the attacker planted one boot against the nearest trunk and launched himself away. He turned once in the air, landed on a thick branch several meters above the road, and crouched there as though he had only stopped to inspect them.
Kumoe pressed against Alexandra's side. Her curious head stared up at him, the sleepy middle watched Alexandra, and the right continued searching the surrounding branches.
Dark leather armor covered the man from throat to ankle without adding visible bulk. Silver lines scratched across the fitted material in patterns resembling claw marks. A short hooked blade rested in each hand, their inward-curving tips built to snag guards, wrench weapons aside, and tear through tendons.
