She very nearly asks if the bear speaks Greek, but Diana has a feeling neither the bear nor the young woman would find it terribly funny. Time and place. She keeps her attention on the task at hand, continuing to back the both of them up slowly as the bear pauses and sways from side to side, growling and huffing.

"She has a cub with her," Diana says instead, nodding slightly to the bundle of brown that's lost interest in the confrontation and has started to tumble away. Hopefully, mother will soon follow. "There's no need for a fight, she's only concerned for her cub."

They should be fine, she thinks. The Hinterland bears are outlandishly aggressive, but it seems safe to assume that mother bears are the same everywhere. The bear begins to turn to follow her cub. Which, naturally, is when an arrow almost buries itself in Diana's neck. The arrowhead clangs against the silver of her bracelets as everything in Diana shifts from flight to fight.

"Suffering Sappho, this place is mad," she mutters, looking back at the young woman to make sure she at least is still all right. Their still hidden but impending attackers are secondary to the following very important question: "How good are you with a sword?"