The crisp air of the night carried a chilling wind that howled through the sky, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending shivers down anyone's spine. The only sound that could be heard was the faint murmur of insects, whispering secrets to each other in the darkness.
Deep within the forest, nestled on top of a hill, a small camp emerged from the shadows. Wooden walls surrounded it, providing protection and shelter for those inside. Rising into the starry sky were plumes of smoke, emanating from lively camp fires where laughter and jests echoed into the night. It was a tranquil scene, as if time had frozen in this moment of joy and camaraderie among the people gathered around the flames.
The man belched loudly, the remnants of a chicken leg still in his mouth as he bellowed for someone to pass him the bottle of booze. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. As soon as his companion handed him the bottle, he eagerly took a swig before leaning in closer to the fire.
"We caught a nice catch today," he bragged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "A wealthy merchant with deep pockets. I still think we should have ransomed him instead of killing him. We could have had a nice haul of gold."
His words were met with murmurs of agreement and regret from his fellow thieves.
"The boss said it was too risky," one of the younger members spoke up timidly.
"You fucking idiot," the man retorted, taking another gulp from the bottle. "I've been doing this job for 7 years now. It's always the same shit. The count raises an army and comes after us, but we always manage to evade them and continue our work once they're gone. What risk is there that we haven't already faced?"
A glob of spit landed on the young man's face, causing him to jerk back in disgust. He rose from his seat by the fire and stalked away, wiping off the spit with disgust. The men watched him go with a mixture of amusement and drunken confusion.
"Where are y-ya going?" one of them called after him, slurring slightly from the alcohol.
"I am going to take a piss" the young man replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you want to come with me and hold it for me?"
The others erupted into raucous laughter at his response before he turned and strode away from the group.
''You better not fucking go to the stable, you smooth face bastard, today is not your turn...''
The man walked away without a word, his footsteps echoing against the pavement. As he glanced around the empty camp , he realized there was no one to witness his actions. With a nonchalant shrug, he pulled down his pants and exposed himself to the world. His instrument, aaimed towards a nearby wall as he relieved himself of his bladder's contents. The sound of urine hitting the ground echoed in the quiet surroundings, only broken by the occasional rustling of leaves, or howl of the wind.
In the blink of an eye, a strong hand clamped over the man's mouth and a sharp blade pressed against his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard the sound of metal against skin.
''Not a word or you'll end up spilling your own blood,'' a coarse yet youthful voice warned from the shadows. The coldness of the blade against his skin sent chills through his body, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
The man hesitated for a moment, frozen in fear, as his mind raced to understand the situation. He could feel the hot breath of his assailant on his neck, and the stench of sweat filled his nostrils.
Slowly, he turned his head to peer into the darkness, trying to make out the figure that held him captive. A faint outline emerged from the shadows, revealing an unfamiliar face with cold, brown eyes. The man's heart pounded even harder.
"Who are you?" he whispered as the hand holding his mouth was removed , his voice strained and breathing labored. The stranger did not respond, only applying more pressure to the knife against his throat.
''How many are there?'' The voice asked
''N-no more than a hundred...'' The young man stammered, shivering uncontrollably.
''Where can I find them?'' There was a moment of tense silence before he spoke again, his hesitation apparent.
''I-I don't know exactly, they're scattered throughout the camp.'' As he spoke, he could feel the sharp blade press harder against his skin. ''But we have some women from nearby villages, I can take you to them.'' The words spilled out quickly as he tried to save himself from the menacing presence before him. ''I swear, I've never laid a hand on them, I just joi-''
''There's no need. I'm not here to rescue anyone.'' The stranger's reply was calm and steady before they covered the man's mouth once again, pressing the blade further into his neck.
As the man whimpered and struggled beneath their grasp, the stranger's intentions remained unclear. But one thing was certain - they were not here to save anyone.
Before the stranger was even dead, he let the man fall to the ground , gurgling sound came out from his mouth as blood filled his lungs while he struggled to breathe.
The young bandit's eyes darted frantically around the dark, moonlit clearing as he heard the chilling question, "Do you want to finish him off?" His heart raced as he tried to make out who was speaking to his killer in the shadows. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness, their long white claws glinting menacingly in the dim light. The bandit's breath caught in his throat as he saw the claws heading towards his head with brute strength. In an instant, his life was snuffed out by a swift and merciless blow from those razor-sharp claws, who grabbed his head and squashed as it were a tomato. The only sound that filled the air was the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, alongside the distant sound of a creature eating...