I lie on a ledge overlooking the road, shift as a stone digs into my side. The sounds of horses and carts makes me perk up though, I check the crossbow I'd been given, slide a bolt into place. My breathing quickens as my target comes into view, the wagons loaded with foods destined for the city of Bethlyzar. I was born there, in the years before the coming of the Empire, but most of my life has been spent in the hills and forests that surround it, an outcast in my own land.
I squirm forward, worm up the side of a large boulder by the side of the road, and rest the crossbow against it, make sure it's aimed at the soldier sitting in the leading cart. There are other outcasts aiming their own crossbows and the noise when all of them are triggered seems to bounce off the trees. A half-dozen soldiers twist and collapse as they're shot, they topple to the ground and are still.
I let go of the crossbow with a grin, vault over the boulder. We're all running for the convoy, eager to claim its cargo for ourselves. The cloth covering one of the carts shifts slightly, I think I catch sight of metal, and then soldiers are charging out, falling on us with terrible fury. I'd slowed upon seeing that brief flash of metal, it saves my life for about a moment. I watch as people are viciously cut down, blood sprays through the air in great crimson loops. Other soldiers are still atop the carts, my heart stops as I register the crossbows they're holding, and I spin, try to run.
I stagger with a sob as a crossbow bolt rips through the meat of my left thigh, sink to my knees as a second bursts from out of a breast. I dimly feel more punch into my back, they hurl me to the ground to lie in a pool of my own blood. There's just a spark of life left, my fingers scrabble in the dirt, and everything hurts when I turn my head after a shadow falls upon me.
The soldier stands over me, his sword drips blood onto my pierced flesh, and a last moan escapes me as he kneels before burying the sword in me...
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