Halt found himself next to his horse once again, after trying to find however had been in the trees when he let loose his arrows. But whenever he came across a footprint or some clue that they had been there, he would be led to a dead end.
Sighing, he leaned against Abelard and stared off through the branches of trees to the starry night. He'd spent all day running around looking for, for, a he didn't know what! It felt as if he chased after a ghost or shadow, something seemingly there and yet not at the same time.
He glowered at his boots, he needed to sleep and worry about this tomorrow. Whoever this shadow person was, they were long gone by now. He just wondered why they were here, and what their intension was for Arluen.
Sophia dabbed at her cut with a handkerchief, wincing as the fabric brushed the sensitive, wounded, flesh. The scratch had been deeper than she had thought, and as she pulled the rag from her face she saw it came back with a giant red dot. She needed to see a healer, she knew, or infection could seep into her open wound and injure her more.
Sighing, she picked up her mirror from where it lay on a small round table and stared into it. Her short, jaw length brown hair had somehow stayed perfect besides for a few hair out of place from having the cowl of her cloak over her head. Brown eyes, darker than the color of her hair, looked weary and her face was slightly pale.
She would see a healer in the morning, she decided with a yawn as she looked around the small inn room she was staying in. Her eyes found the bed, stretching, she slipped under the covers and closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the dark folds of slumber.
Sophia woke up to the smell of smoke.
Tearing the covers off of her body, she tugged on her boots and threw her cloak over her shoulders before running out the door.
The hallway was empty and black as Sophia stumbled down it, one hand on the wall to guide her. The scent of fire still burned (A/N: Yes, that is a bad pun) In her nostrils.
Finding the stairs, she raced down them and found herself in the bar area of the inn. She took a second to make sure everything was okay, noting the lack of people in the room, before bursting out the door.
The town was on fire.
A group of men on horses threw torches at houses and slaughtered people as they attempted to flee. Sophia drew an arrow from her quiver and notched it, aiming at one of the men. She pulled it back to her jaw, and tensed her back muscles before quickly letting it fly from her hand.
She had let loose three arrows before the man noticed. Slouching in his saddle, his body rolled from the horse to the dusty ground.
That caught the attention of the other ten men, their beady eyes all burning with hatred as they stared at the small figure holding the weapon that had killed their partner.
A tall man with a bloody sword in his hand turned to look at her. His mouth twisted in a wolfish grin.
"Well, well, a little boy's trying to help now is he?" The bandit sneered.
Sophia's face grew hot and she let an arrow fly to his chest. It bounced off like it was made with rubber. "I'm a girl, you dolt!"
The man's smile faded as something deep within his eyes gleamed, "Well then, girl, I suggest you leave. Your arrows will do nothing against my chainmail, I have the finest amour in all the land."
"Guess you don't have the finest brains, though." Sophia taunted, "Because you would know better than underestimate me."