She tried to rock upwards, but before she got too far a hand gripped her tunic and hauled her to her feet.
“Come on!”
It was the young officer from earlier – the one who had tried to speak for her.
Abigail was pushed forward and sideways, around a building, as another wave of heat struck the stones of the building beside them.
As the heat of the dragon's rage missed them barely again, the officer whirled her around then slammed his shoulder into a door frame, turning the handle frantically. It wasn't locked – and he threw her inside, crashing through after her and slamming it closed.
The sounds of terror and rage outside dulled immediately.
Abigail leaned, heaving against the wall, her arms above her head, as she coughed and spluttered.
The officer who had saved her grabbed her shoulder again, spinning her around.
“Don't!” he shook her. “Don't let the fear win. You let it win and we die.”
For the first time Abigail looked at him, properly, as his eyes bore into hers, full of fear and panic. His face was covered with muck and scratches, but his eyes were a clear, steely grey. Under his Imperial helm, she could see thick brownish-red hair.
“Do you understand me?” he shook her a little again. Abigail nodded.
His shoulders relaxed, and he stepped back. “Are you hurt?”
In answer, Abigail held out her wrists, still bound. “I'm...”
He cursed, fumbling for a dagger at his belt, then cut her bindings. “It'll be all right,” he told her, though she was certain he was comforting her. “I'll get you out of here. There's a tunnel in the basement we can use – it won't be able to find us there.”
Abigail nodded, rubbing her wrists gratefully as the bindings fell to the floor. “Thank...thank you.”
The officer nodded briefly, then hurried away, to an adjoining room.
Abigail stepped after him. “Why are you...who are you?” she didn't know which question to ask first. 
“Hadvar,” he answered quickly. “And you are Abigail,” he stated.
Abigail nodded in answer, though he didn't see her nod. He knew her name from the execution list.
From her spot in the doorway, she could see the officer – Hadvar – pouring through a pile of what looked like armour. What was he doing?
“Here,” he threw something heavy in her direction, which fell to the stone floor with a bit of a clang. “Put this on. They'll think you're with me.”
Abigail bent down to retrieve the rough looking garment, recognising it as Imperial Legion armour.
Hadvar returned to the doorframe, and thrust a leather helmet over her matted hair. “There. Now you look like a soldier,” he saluted her, smirking.
Abigail spluttered as she laughed, the sound ragged to her ears and she cupped her hand over her mouth almost immediately, casting Hadvar a guilty glance.
His smile fell as the sounds of fighting outside were punctuated with another ungodly scream from the dragon.
“Quickly,” he nodded to the armour. “Put this on. We're not out of this yet, little one.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” she muttered, shoving the leather armour over her head, wriggling a little as it fell over her thin frame, several sizes too big.
Hadvar tutted and pulled the leather straps at the side of the armour, securing the buckles on their furthest setting, to tighten it a little. Abigail watched him, flushing.
“Why are you helping me?” she had to ask him finally. “I am a hinderance to you.”
“No time to talk,” Hadvar patted her sides and ducked down to her level, his task complete. “There. Fits like a glove. Come on!”
He dashed off and Abigail shook her head, wondering at how her fortunes had taken such staggeringly high and low turns since her arrival in Skyrim. She raced after him, hoping Hadvar's grand plan for escape would work. It was too memorable a day for her to die and the adventurer in her wanted to see how it would end.