'There she is!' cried the woman from behind. 'Look at her go!'
'Get her, then!' shouted the man.
The scrubby grassland stretched away unbroken before her. Nowhere to run to. She span around with a snarl, nocking an arrow to her bow. Four horsemen were spurring towards her, Gurkish soldiers, sun glinting on their tall helmets and the cruel heads of their spears. Behind them, further back, were two other riders: a man and a woman. 'Stop! In the name of the Emperor!' one of the horsemen shouted.
'Fuck your Emperor!' Her arrow caught the first of the soldiers through his neck and he tumbled backwards from the saddle with a shocked gurgle, his spear flying out of his hand.
'Good shot!' cried the woman. The second rider took an arrow in his chest. His breastplate slowed it, but it still went deep enough to kill. He screamed, dropping his sword in the grass, clutching at the shaft, rolling in the saddle.
The third never even made a sound. He got one in the mouth, at no more than ten strides away. The point went right through his skull and knocked his helmet off, but by then the fourth was on her. She threw the bow to the ground and rolled away as the soldier thrust at her with his spear, then she pulled the sword from her belt, spitting on the grass.
- The Blade Itself, Part II, Her Kind Fight Everything