"Something's wrong with him," Miran observed, his pace toward Draven slowing. He remained cautious, his apprehension evident even behind his mask. However, Lynal's intent to kill still blazed in his eyes.
"Or it could be a trick," Lynal retorted, his bowstring taut as he drew an arrow, taking aim at Draven.
Just as Lynal prepared to release the arrow, another projectile struck his hand, causing his arrow to drop to the ground. Both generals swiftly diverted their attention to the side, where Marcella was charging toward Draven, her bowstring vibrating with each rapid shot she fired at them.
Her prowess with the bow was undeniable; each arrow she loosed struck its intended target. Nonetheless, the generals, with their agility, managed to evade the arrows, their experience serving them well.
Although Marcella was swift, the generals were swifter, their decades of experience giving them the edge.
