It happened so fast. The aggravated Vruk signaled to attack with the point of his blade. The loud screaming has me instantly grab an arrow from my fletcher, taking down the archers on my left with three shots.
Rhys wielded his glowing blue, cold sword, and as it slices the first faun who swindled his life, the faun becomes frozen solid before dropping to the ground; the creature broke into pieces of ice.
They advanced while I move backward to get a better aim, trying to take down the last archer in front. The faun is aiming his arrow toward Rhys, who's fighting three fauns at the same time, but I won't let him.
I draw weight, my eyes sharpened toward the creature's forehead, and I let go of my string. It looks to be flying in slow motion, and my grip tightens in anticipation. But as it almost reaches the faun, Vruk slices my arrow in half.
