~ The Rescue ~ pg 4

Wendon sat up in his bedroll with a jolt as a gust smacked him in the face. He threw the covers off and jumped up clumsily as they got tangled around his feet. When he finally kicked free, he did what he’d been trained to do and grabbed his sword before he even wiped the sleep from his eyes. Wielding it in front of him, he moved slowly around the camp. The men on watch were nowhere to be seen but that wasn’t saying much because he couldn’t see very far.  The fire was down to only glowing embers and the moon was hidden behind countless leaved branches.

Where was everyone? “Jaysawn,” he called a little above a whisper, “Mobin, where are you?”

There was a sudden rustling in the trees just beyond the clearing. “Over here,” a shadowed figure called back. “I need help!”

“Guys,” he hissed walking forward with quiet steps, “you need to be careful! Commander set traps in the woods.”

“Help me!” the man called again, quieter but more urgent. Frowning in his frustration, Wendon drew closer to the voice. He hadn’t gone more than two paces in before he saw a body on the ground, a bolt sticking out of his neck. He couldn’t quite make out his features in the dark, but he thought it was Bivell from the beard. The man’s body was chilled. This was not the man who had called to him. 

Suddenly suspicious, Wendon jumped up with his sword in an attack stance. It did no good against the twang of the crossbow that sent a bolt shuddering through his sternum. He would have screamed if he could have, but he found he could no longer draw breath. His sword fell from his hand, useless, as his knees buckled. Since the day he’d joined the Promise Keepers, Wendon had wondered what it would be like to die… 

Well, now he knew.

The End

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