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Azhar gave a tiny sigh. Relieved that Athwen had returned, she sprinted off to find help as the older woman had suggested. Her first impulse was to speak with someone from the large crowd that had gathered on the riverbank. Azhar was smart enough to realize that shrieking out the news to the entire group would only create an unorganized stampede that could do more to hurt than help. She had to pick out a specific person and enlist their aid. Still, the group was a long way down river, and the debate on what to do with the captured orcs was still going on. With so many angry people packed so close together, Azhar wasn't sure if she could make herself heard above the noise, or even who to approach. She glanced over at the crowd, attempting to catch sight of Lindir or Aiwendil or Dorran, but it was impossible to pick them out from a distance.
For a moment Azhar hesitated, uncertain what to do. Then she turned sideways and spotted the supply wagon. She saw a familiar figure leaning against the back gate.....someone who was good in a pinch and who seemed to have a knack for coming up with practical solutions. She charged over to where Carl stood, grabbed the hobbit by the shoulder and blurted out: "Please. Come. The children are in the pit. The water's come up. One of them can't move. An orc girl went down to help, but she has no ropes or anything."
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