The distant clip-clop of hooves was the only thing that could be heard on that eerie night. Arnold begun tap dancing on the spot in a futile attempt to warm his feet, it was almost winter and on the northern borders of Falgras wood the temperature dropped considerably at night.
A thump and a muffled imprecation came from the road not far from his hiding spot within the thick bushes, he hoped to block the road by setting fire to a line of dry grass his henchmen had previously positioned, but if they kept falling asleep and dropping from the (fortunately) low branches of the nearest tree it'll be impossible to catch the travellers by surprise. The travellers... his scout spotted them gallopping at a considerable speed, two men, one armor-clad and the other with an air of importance about him; he figured them to be some sort of heralds, it should be too difficult to have the upper hand on them, and maybe this time he could make enough money to leave this wretched life, his bones were growing a bit too old for all this humidity.
Judging by the sound that the riders were close enough Arnold stepped out of his cover.

[To Be Continued]