She was quick to attempt to put some distance between then four of them, drawing her own attacker out so Cullen had the room to work. She was lucky enough to be facing an opponent with a similar fighting style to her own. She moved like Isabela - practiced footwork and undeniably fast - but didn't seem all too eager to resort to some of the disappearing acts Hawke had seen earlier from her comrades. That was going to even the playing field a little.

There wasn't any time to keep an eye out for Cullen. He could take care of himself and though his injury worried her, she knew she'd hear if he needed her help. She focused on the girl instead, meeting each dagger thrust with one of her own, the two of them dancing around one another. Hawke pressed back every time, trying to uproot the thief's stance to rattle her. Each time, she held her ground and pushed back against her, but one particular misstep gave Hawke just the advantage she needed; she pushed the blade to the side and down, spinning around to put them back-to-back long enough for her second dagger to twist and embed itself into the woman's side. Her scream made her toes curl, the sound right by her ear, and when they separated, blood dripped onto the pavement.

"Bitch!" the woman screamed, launching herself at Hawke. Desperation made her sloppy but angry enough to have her constantly on the move, daggers clashing together to keep the thief from reaching her throat. She swung past her defenses and Hawke just barely managed to tilt her head back in time, the tip of a knife burning a line in her cheek. Her weight dipped back on one foot and she sprang forward, knocking her shoulder into the thief's chest. The woman staggered and Hawke buried both knives into her stomach, the leather of her opponent's armor easily giving way to flesh. With a gasp and a wet gurgle, the thief dropped into a crumpled heap at her feet.