She only half-registered the conversation going on on the beach; her focus was primarily on her wound, snapping off the spear's handle so she could slowly work the tip from her arm. It was bleeding, and understandably so, hot blood soaking her shirt. Ariadne pressed one hand to it, arming herself with the spearhead in the other as she peered around her cover to the sight before her. She wouldn't get into the middle of it - she couldn't, really, not with her arm injured like this. It was a liability, and she just thanked herself for making it to the end so she wouldn't have to deal with it for another few days. She pushed herself up slowly, bracing herself against the tree, prepared to dart forward at any moment.