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Description
The sky was dark and the sun long since gone down. A light breeze softly stirred the leaves remaining on the trees as they stood proudly in the dark. A small light, the light of a dim lantern, bobbed up and down slightly as its holder ponderously made his way along the thin dirt path that bisected much of this portion of the forest. The lantern-wielder was not alone; a small contingent of men followed closely around him, armed and armored, but still clinging to such a small brilliance in the dark for fear of their enemies. They were lost and ill-prepared, and, as they knew, it would be their undoing.

Two men crouched low in the brush as their foes picked their way over and around the debris that had been placed along the path to inhibit the progress of any foolish enough to travel that way. One drew a deep, long breath and notched an arrow expertly into his bow, training his sights upon the soldier with the lantern. The other edged deliberately toward the edge of the treeline, just beyond the light, but still only scant feet from his companion.

A loud twang broke the black silence, followed by a grunt, a gasp, and a thud. The soldier who had held the lantern tumbled to the ground with an arrow lodged in his neck, the lantern rolling from his hand and retaining nearly no light. The other man burst from the brush and deftly dispatched another of the armed men with a flick of his blade, spilling his guts onto the dirt. Another quick slash and a third soldier fell dead, a bloody grin spread across his throat. The fourth and final soldier made for the trees, rushing in with all haste. Another twang and he was bound to a tree by his throat, queer gurgling noises echoing through the forest as he slid from the arrow and down onto the undergrowth. Strange shadows danced around the swordsman who still stood, the dim light of the lantern playing tricks with the darkness and the mind.

The man sheathed his sword and strode to the lantern, kneeling to retrieve it. He held it aloft and gazed slowly about. "Was that all of them, Daniel?"

The archer stepped silently from the trees and stood next to the other man, coming only to his shoulders. The two were roughly dressed in tattered and soiled clothes punctuated by hides. He rubbed his leather-gloved hands against the cold, his breath coming out in puffed clouds. "Yes, brother," the reply came, curt.

The taller of the duo was not satisfied as he redoubled his efforts. "You are certain? There were no stragglers? No scouts?"

Daniel snatched the lantern from his brother in a feeble attempt warm himself. "Yes, I am certain, Geral. They were scared and alone, for gods' know what reason," Daniel huffed, annoyed by his brother's lack of faith in his skills. "Can we head out now? It isn't getting much warmer out here, what with the coming winter and pitch blackness and all."

Geral gestured toward the soldier bleeding out amongst the leaves. "Search him," he said as he began to rummage through the meager belongings the soldiers had left. It was difficult and painstaking work in the dim light cast by the lantern his brother held some feet away. Some salted pork and dry tack, and a few other rations were with one man; another had a little spare oil for the lantern.

"Geral!" Daniel called. "I found something. A parchment. Looks important." Geral strode, annoyed, to his brother. He was illiterate, and relied upon Geral for anything related to reading or writing. Geral gently took the paper from his brother and only needed to glance at it to glean its importance.

"You were right, Daniel. It is time we leave. Get the horses. We make for the captain. Now." Daniel handed his brother the lantern without a word and nodded before running off alone into the night.

Description
The sky was dark and the sun long since gone down. A light breeze softly stirred the leaves remaining on the trees as they stood proudly in the dark. A small light, the light of a dim lantern, bobbed up and down slightly as its holder ponderously made his way along the thin dirt path that bisected much of this portion of the forest. The lantern-wielder was not alone; a small contingent of men followed closely around him, armed and armored, but still clinging to such a small brilliance in the dark for fear of their enemies. They were lost and ill-prepared, and, as they knew, it would be their undoing.

Two men crouched low in the brush as their foes picked their way over and around the debris that had been placed along the path to inhibit the progress of any foolish enough to travel that way. One drew a deep, long breath and notched an arrow expertly into his bow, training his sights upon the soldier with the lantern. The other edged deliberately toward the edge of the treeline, just beyond the light, but still only scant feet from his companion.

A loud twang broke the black silence, followed by a grunt, a gasp, and a thud. The soldier who had held the lantern tumbled to the ground with an arrow lodged in his neck, the lantern rolling from his hand and retaining nearly no light. The other man burst from the brush and deftly dispatched another of the armed men with a flick of his blade, spilling his guts onto the dirt. Another quick slash and a third soldier fell dead, a bloody grin spread across his throat. The fourth and final soldier made for the trees, rushing in with all haste. Another twang and he was bound to a tree by his throat, queer gurgling noises echoing through the forest as he slid from the arrow and down onto the undergrowth. Strange shadows danced around the swordsman who still stood, the dim light of the lantern playing tricks with the darkness and the mind.

The man sheathed his sword and strode to the lantern, kneeling to retrieve it. He held it aloft and gazed slowly about. "Was that all of them, Daniel?"

The archer stepped silently from the trees and stood next to the other man, coming only to his shoulders. The two were roughly dressed in tattered and soiled clothes punctuated by hides. He rubbed his leather-gloved hands against the cold, his breath coming out in puffed clouds. "Yes, brother," the reply came, curt.

The taller of the duo was not satisfied as he redoubled his efforts. "You are certain? There were no stragglers? No scouts?"

Daniel snatched the lantern from his brother in a feeble attempt warm himself. "Yes, I am certain, Geral. They were scared and alone, for gods' know what reason," Daniel huffed, annoyed by his brother's lack of faith in his skills. "Can we head out now? It isn't getting much warmer out here, what with the coming winter and pitch blackness and all."

Geral gestured toward the soldier bleeding out amongst the leaves. "Search him," he said as he began to rummage through the meager belongings the soldiers had left. It was difficult and painstaking work in the dim light cast by the lantern his brother held some feet away. Some salted pork and dry tack, and a few other rations were with one man; another had a little spare oil for the lantern.

"Geral!" Daniel called. "I found something. A parchment. Looks important." Geral strode, annoyed, to his brother. He was illiterate, and relied upon Geral for anything related to reading or writing. Geral gently took the paper from his brother and only needed to glance at it to glean its importance.

"You were right, Daniel. It is time we leave. Get the horses. We make for the captain. Now." Daniel handed his brother the lantern without a word and nodded before running off alone into the night.