The stone flew in a slow, graceful and—most importantly—quiet arch and hit a tree on the opposite from me side of the camp. Alerted by the sound, the sentry reflexively looked there, which was when I pounced on him from behind.
What a poor sentry he was. He didn't notice a thing until I had one hand on his mouth, stifling any screams, and used claws (they poked through the special holes in my gloves and broke another piece of my disguise, but I needed my main weapons always ready) on another to cut his throat.
But to give him credit, even as I was killing him, he found in himself to grab a dagger from his belt and stick it into my arm. I clenched my jaws, but made no sound, and simply held the man in his death throes.
