Orders, good. He could work with orders. 

They didn't require thought or question, didn't invite conversation or explanation. Orders were spoken to be acted upon, to be followed, and nothing more. 

At the moment, that was all Semyon wanted. 

With a nod to Bain, the Wight offered only a brief, anguished glance towards Tamarind and the fallen Werewolf beside her, before turning to the gate. Thadd -it was Thadd, wasn't it?- was beside Tamarind now, tending a wound he hadn't even noticed she suffered, one that likely could have been fatal. A second mistake over the first, too blinded by action to have noticed her injuries sooner. It was a common mistake, the flow of combat often meaning you missed the injured and dying in pursuit of your quarry. Vision narrows with battle, and few can focus on both threats and allies at the same time. That was why you had to trust your comrades, hold faith they would see what you missed, as Thadd had.

The thought was small consolation. Semyon had fought for too long to have made a mistake like that. There had been someone to make up for it this time, but that said nothing of the next.

And to say nothing of the speech he had given the Young Reaper so recently. The sight of her charging into the gate room, and then vanishing completely, had driven a spike of dread through the Wight... and might also have quickened his pace through the waiting portal.

He almost laughed at himself as he stepped through the Shade Gate, the sight of the very circle they had begun these missions from seeming so very fitting to his current mood. Body loosening, he raised his weapon once more to take stock of the area, senses catching Miss Pavlenko's admission that their opponent had gotten away. A flick of his gaze noted the white hairs in her clutch, and it became apparent what a feat that escape truly meant. Beginning at the same point, she had not only beaten him to the gate, but she had [i]also[/i] managed to nearly grab a fleeing werewolf who had held the head start.

Semyon watched the ground as he paced and thought, trying to catch sight of anything that might show where their opponent had gone. Tracks from his comrades -including his own- were scattered over the area, time not given the chance to erase them yet. It made any attempt to track difficult, but even still he should have been able to find more than [i]nothing[/i]. Even if he hadn't been able to find where their quarry had run off to, he should have found some hint that he had been here in the first place. Nothing presented itself to that effect, not a single fallen hair or fresh print or newly-disturbed ground. 

If any of his comrades were better trackers, he would have to ask them to check it over once they came through. But for now, signs pointed that the werewolf who had fled, had [i]not[/i] been sent here. 

"Atticus, Miss Pavlenko," Completing his circle, Semyon found himself beside the other two who had already gone through the gate, in a conversation of their own. Jumping in was rude, but remaining inactive right now was... not an option. 

"I thought our opponent took something before he fled, do either of you know what it might be? Or why-... why only our werewolf comrades were targeted?"