Pressed up against the ground, stomped and stampeded by what felt like an unending line of monsters, she tried to shield as best as was possible using what little was available to her, but the living was not spared any of it, having been standing right in front of the door when it was opened, claws dug into her flesh, but surprisingly, she did not feel herself being torn apart like a wet piece of parchment.
Quickly enough, the wave of bodies ceased, warm blood splashing over the huntress, prompting her to suddenly rise up, several drylurkers laid in pools of crimson, the rest already ascending up the tunnel, albeit with much difficult as they did not bother to arrange themselves into a proper line, clogging the way as they slowly forced passage anyways, crushing the creatures on the outer edges of this mass against the walls and ceiling.