ahead, just the older axeman, crunching ever closer, not even trying to be quiet. That meant there were two more behind him somewhere, and they couldn’t be far behind. Ever closer, he heard him coming. Then, just as the old man reached the tree, the noise stopped.
“What in blazes is this?” Guy heard the old grizzled man say. “Aren’t we pretty?” The axeman said with a grunt as he very audibly bent over to look at something.
“Pretty?” Thought Guy? “Are you serious?” And unable to stop himself he peered around the tree. There, he saw the grizzled old axeman, grinning euphorically and bent full over, smelling a wild yellow and orange flower with his eyes closed. Guy’s eyes darted beyond the old man and to either side, and then, without hesitation, he took one step out from the tree and stabbed deep into the pocket between the grizzled neck and shoulder. In desperation he continued stabbing until the man fell to the ground. Blood sprayed out in great bursts and sucking noises filled his ears. His heart was pounding like thunder as he suddenly remembered the others that must be close. He fell flat, on top of the body, and froze. He looked up, straining to hear anything above his own heartbeat and ragged breath. He saw movement in the trees off to the left.
“Slap your sister!” he thought, and he hugged the old man tightly, trying to be invisible.
“Hurry up Brick!” growled a hairy beast of a man as he lumbered through the forest. “We’re falling behind! Forget those two. If they don’t catch up that’s their problem.”
Brick, who looked more like a sapling, was pacing him, farther to the left, and gave no indication he had heard him say anything. Guy thought the moniker may have spoken to his mental capacity rather than his physical build. Both men were completely focused on moving fast, and didn’t notice to gory scene only a few paces to their own left as they ran by. Guy let out a huge sigh and slowly stood up.
Without waiting for any more surprises, he set out, swinging back to the west then north toward the cabin.
At the same time and due south, rebel soldiers found Chase and Guy’s camp. Sarge took a look around and frowned. It looked like two men had camped here, rather than a single escaped soldier like the one they were pursuing. He absentmindedly reached up and scratched the balding top of his head. “It doesn’t matter, we still have more men than they do.” He reasoned to himself.
“We’re getting close.” He said out loud, and he kicked over the nearest of two lean-to’s at the edge of the camp.
The other two men passed through the camp, eying the area for anything salvageable, and resumed their march through the forest. Sarge looked over his shoulder and carefully to each side, and then followed his men.
Corvis raised his hand and signaled his men to halt. He looked up at the goat trail and decided this was as far as they could go mounted. His men closed in behind him and he dismounted. He began checking his gear and tugging on the tie downs. The other five followed his lead. They worked in silence, often looking up to scan the area. Two days ago they found the camp site of a small group of rebel soldiers, and Corvis knew they were close to overtaking them. He hoped he would find Chase among them.
The men signaled they were ready, and Corvis nodded at the Private beside him. Guiding his horse by a lead rope, the Private took point and set to finding the best way up. Corvis followed the Private with his own horse in tow, and each of the others did the same. Soon they were making their way up the Northern Mountains, grateful for horses to carry their water and gear.
More often than he wanted to, Lieutenant Brente ordered the men to stop and rest. The men could push on at a faster pace, and continue with fewer breaks, but Corvis knew they would also be in worse condition to fight if the need arose. It was much better to pace his soldiers and conserve their energy for
“What in blazes is this?” Guy heard the old grizzled man say. “Aren’t we pretty?” The axeman said with a grunt as he very audibly bent over to look at something.
“Pretty?” Thought Guy? “Are you serious?” And unable to stop himself he peered around the tree. There, he saw the grizzled old axeman, grinning euphorically and bent full over, smelling a wild yellow and orange flower with his eyes closed. Guy’s eyes darted beyond the old man and to either side, and then, without hesitation, he took one step out from the tree and stabbed deep into the pocket between the grizzled neck and shoulder. In desperation he continued stabbing until the man fell to the ground. Blood sprayed out in great bursts and sucking noises filled his ears. His heart was pounding like thunder as he suddenly remembered the others that must be close. He fell flat, on top of the body, and froze. He looked up, straining to hear anything above his own heartbeat and ragged breath. He saw movement in the trees off to the left.
“Slap your sister!” he thought, and he hugged the old man tightly, trying to be invisible.
“Hurry up Brick!” growled a hairy beast of a man as he lumbered through the forest. “We’re falling behind! Forget those two. If they don’t catch up that’s their problem.”
Brick, who looked more like a sapling, was pacing him, farther to the left, and gave no indication he had heard him say anything. Guy thought the moniker may have spoken to his mental capacity rather than his physical build. Both men were completely focused on moving fast, and didn’t notice to gory scene only a few paces to their own left as they ran by. Guy let out a huge sigh and slowly stood up.
Without waiting for any more surprises, he set out, swinging back to the west then north toward the cabin.
At the same time and due south, rebel soldiers found Chase and Guy’s camp. Sarge took a look around and frowned. It looked like two men had camped here, rather than a single escaped soldier like the one they were pursuing. He absentmindedly reached up and scratched the balding top of his head. “It doesn’t matter, we still have more men than they do.” He reasoned to himself.
“We’re getting close.” He said out loud, and he kicked over the nearest of two lean-to’s at the edge of the camp.
The other two men passed through the camp, eying the area for anything salvageable, and resumed their march through the forest. Sarge looked over his shoulder and carefully to each side, and then followed his men.
Corvis raised his hand and signaled his men to halt. He looked up at the goat trail and decided this was as far as they could go mounted. His men closed in behind him and he dismounted. He began checking his gear and tugging on the tie downs. The other five followed his lead. They worked in silence, often looking up to scan the area. Two days ago they found the camp site of a small group of rebel soldiers, and Corvis knew they were close to overtaking them. He hoped he would find Chase among them.
The men signaled they were ready, and Corvis nodded at the Private beside him. Guiding his horse by a lead rope, the Private took point and set to finding the best way up. Corvis followed the Private with his own horse in tow, and each of the others did the same. Soon they were making their way up the Northern Mountains, grateful for horses to carry their water and gear.
More often than he wanted to, Lieutenant Brente ordered the men to stop and rest. The men could push on at a faster pace, and continue with fewer breaks, but Corvis knew they would also be in worse condition to fight if the need arose. It was much better to pace his soldiers and conserve their energy for
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