The soft crunching of leaves beneath deliberate footsteps filled Tristan's ears as he woke. A sharp pain dominated his thoughts as he tried to open his eyes. A dull but persistent pounding kept him from thinking straight. The back of his head felt swollen and was throbbing as he tried to clear his mind.
Where am I? What happened?
Something was wrong with his eyes. They wouldn't open no matter how hard he tried. No, his eyes were working just fine. There was something blocking his view! A bag had been placed over his head in order to hide his face. Hide it from what? Tristan quickly came to the realization that the bag was placed to hide the surroundings from his eyes. He was being taken somewhere, but where? He stayed silent for a moment, listening for something, anything, which would reveal his location. He could just barely make out the sound of three individuals. One walked on either side of himself and a third a short distance behind him. He had not stirred after waking so he was sure the strangers could not know he was now alert. He was being hauled through the forest it seemed. The men at his sides were pulling his limp body forward with purpose. Their bulging arms were placed under his armpits, causing his feet to drag in the dense underbrush.
"Are we nearly there?" the man to his left inquired in a loud whisper. Tristan heard no reply. He carefully twisted his right foot very slowly so as not to be discovered; he was feeling for his hidden blade. Though he remembered it being both tightly secured and well hidden just above his right ankle, it seemed the thin razor had been confiscated sometime during his forced slumber.
"Is this the spot?" the impatient captor to his left asked in a less-than-hushed voice.
"Quiet!" the right captor murmured.
"No one is within earshot now. We should be safe." The rear man's booming voice startled Tristan, but he remained flaccid. The voice was distinct and commanding, full of authority. "We'll finish it here."