The horses trotted slowly in a soothing rythm. I rested my head on my bow. Three arrows rested in the wood of the bench that I now shared with the driver. We continued for hours and even though I'd been trained to be patient I couldn't help feel bored.
I passed the time by using my throwing knives to make patterns in the old wood. As I threw my final knife and it finsihed the arrow head on the bench, a sound reached my ears. New horses were approaching. I looked at the driver, his eyes were wide. I quickly pull my knives from the wood and replace them on my belt. I raised a finger to my outh to signal for him to remain silent as I climbed onto the roof of the carriage and leap up into the canopy. I pulled myself up onto a branch as the carriage slowed to a stop.
Moments later three men on horseback rounded the corner. I pull an arrow from my quiver and place it on the string. The riders dosmounted, all wore a patch with a red hand printed on it. They all pulled makeshift wepons from their belts. The driver looked terrified. One of the bandits slammed his mace on the bench crushing the arrows I'd left there.
"Where is the owner of these?" he growled holding up one of the broken arrows.