Sandy, being one of the few melee fighters they had, stuck up close to the front beside Gearstride. The engineer glanced up at the rooftops as he darted alongside the Captain. "Aye, gettin' caught in th' open with their speed'll be a death wish. At least with th' trees there's plenty of cover, an' they can't go full-out sprintin' without wrappin' themselves around an oak." His throat was turning a lovely shade of purple, but at least he could talk without any pain now. He'd continue to stick nearer the front, keeping an eye out for any lookouts, mortal or otherwise.