It has been a very long set of days; Six has entered each contest and been bested each time, but she didn't quite have the strength of heart to be mad about it. She's content to have tried and done her best to bring to light that not every Rifter was a nightmare to behold, even if a six foot woman with a greatsword might have encouraged some terror.

She's bringing the horse back to Marcoulf when she stumbles into the upset of the camp. It doesn't take her too long to gain an understanding of what's happening - an invasion, a quick pack up so they can figure out what is going on, mob mentality taking over to an extreme extent - before she's nodding her head and tugging on the reigns of the beast to bring him back. It inspires her to her usual generous nature, wanting to help anyone here who might be at a loss, wanting to support them and help in whatever way she can.

It's what makes her quick to grab whatever it is that is being pressed into her arms, dropping the reigns of the horse and nodding her head.

"As you say." And, without hesitation or some stern word for being ordered around, she goes and shoves the canvas on a wagon before she comes back.

"What else needs doing?"