Sparrowheart

3

Evander smelled the fire before he saw it. A beam of moonlight made ethereal columns through the slits in the trees above and shone brightly on his ebony skin. He sniffed the air once more and crouched down to examine a footprint in the grass. He traced the outline of it, wet with dew, and determined that it was from a particular type of boot that only a particular type of person would wear. He had worn them himself during his time as a Rider. The smoke in the air and the fresh markings told him he was just far enough away to avoid detection. The years of careful adherence to tracking game for the hunt had prepared him to prey on the very ones who had taught him such skills. He had far surpassed them in every regard, and it was not hubris on his part to acknowledge it. Thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, memories of old hunts and drunken men's foul breath hot against his ear while they whispered careful instruction; flashes of specific days he had not thought of in over a decade. He allowed the thoughts to have their moment, then shifted his attention back to the task at hand. The distinct smell of cooked horseflesh lingering in the smoky air had excited a nostalgic feeling within him that, considering what he was doing, made him feel slightly guilty, but he quickly shook that sentiment aside as well. The Riders shot and cooked their horses regularly when the hunt had been unsuccessful, and tonight was such a night. There were, after all, an abundance of the creatures in the wild and no shortage of them in the stables. He had been forced to kill his own horse, Romulus, when he had returned from his first hunt empty handed and vowed to never eat meat again unless out of extreme desperation, and had managed to remain quite fit and healthy on a diet of various fruits, nuts, and elixirs. He lowered his hood and remained motionless, listening for voices. There was only silence. Then, suddenly, the crack of a twig snapping and a grunt followed by the crunching of leaves. Someone was walking toward him. Instinctively, he moved slowly, silently behind the nearest tree. A ragged man dressed in the characteristic riding gear approached the tree, belching, and began relieving himself against the tree. Evander pulled a knife from inside his cloak and, almost as if dancing, twisted around from behind the tree and sliced the man's throat. He fell to the ground, grasping the wound and thrashed around as blood sprayed the leaves. After a few moments, he was dead. Evander stepped over the body and proceeded in the direction from which the man had approached. Hearing voices, he paused and retreated into shadow once more. 

"What's taking that useless bastard so long?" said the first voice.

"Probably pissing an entire barrel's worth of draught, he's been drinking all day."

Evander silently climbed a tree and settled himself in the crook of a branch, knocking an arrow. Below, he could see two more men sitting on logs around a dying fire, a horse's charred carcass lay on the ground between them and they were casually ripping off strips of meat. The pelt of the dead beast was stretched over a large stump. The first man rose to his feet, sighing. 

"I best go look for him, the fool's got himself lost most likely." He walked directly under the branch that Evander was sitting in and once he was close to discovering the body, three arrows pierced the center of his head, neck, and heart in rapid succession. He toppled to the ground wordlessly, twitching. Evander leapt out of the tree without a sound and approached the dead men. He grasped both of them by the back of the collar and dragged them across the ground toward the camp. Hearing the rustle of leaves, the last remaining Rider peered into the darkness looking for a sign of his companions. 

"Rollins? Hob? Is that you?"

There was no reply. He stood up.

"Oi! What do you mean by all this sneaking about?"

Evander slowly emerged into the dim moonlight, dragging Rollins and Hob and tossed them in front of him. 

"What the hell is this?!" shouted the man, and he fumbled for the gun his his holster. But before he could draw it, Evander sent an arrow flying into his hand. He screamed in pain and tried reaching for the gun with his undamaged hand, but another arrow pierced it and and his waist, connecting them. He let out a bellow of pain much louder than the one before and tried to run. He had the appearance of a newly born calf attempting to walk for the first time. He fell over a log and tried getting up, but could not. Evander walked slowly toward him and grasped him by the collar so that they were eye level.

"What the hell do you want from me?!" the man pleaded. Evander tightened his grip.

"Why is the old man dead?"

"Wh-what?" Evander reached down and pushed the arrow deeper into the man's hand and waist. 

"DAMN THE GODS!! I DON'T KNOW!"

"Where is his body?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"You know something. Talk. Now."

"ALL'S I HEARD WAS THAT---ARGH-- THE VILLAGE WILL SOON FALL!"

"Why?"

"I DON'T KNOW!! ALL'S I KNOW IS THAT THE ORDERS COME FROM--HIGHER UP, IF YOU CATCH MY--EOWWW---MEANING!" Evander dropped the man, who fell hard on top of the arrow. He screamed again. Evander notched another arrow and pointed it at his head.

"PLEASE, SHOW SOME MERCY!"

"I will show no mercy, for I have received none." He shot him through the head at point-blank range, silencing the screams forever. Evander pulled up his hood again and walked to the edge of the forrest. He could hear the telltale sounds of a vast army and many horses neighing. As he peered out from behind a tree, he saw the great numbers of the Riders in full. He had come far enough, heard enough. There was no way to question anyone else tonight without risking detection. He paused for a moment, watching the men set fire to a vegetable cart. The Riders had come across a traveling troupe of buskers who had a small encampment by the forrest's edge and were burning down their tents and terrorizing them. One of the brutes was dragging a young woman into an undefiled tent, no doubt to violate her after murdering her mate. 

"You've got no meat eh, bloody herbivores?" said the man. "At least there's something else we can take pleasure in tonight, I'll give you something to wail about!" The woman tried to kick and flail against her captor, but to no avail. The Rider who led their ranks was seated high on his horse, peering down at the mayhem from under his wide-brimmed hat in apparent approval, a fresh burn lashed across his swarthy face. Flames from the burning tents licked his mount's feet, causing the beast to rear up. Evander clenched his fist in suppressed rage, unable to control himself. Before the depraved man had reached the tent with his human prize, an arrow pierced his eye and he fell to the ground in shock. The mounted Rider, the leader, turned quickly toward the direction of the trees, and for one very long moment seemed to make eye contact with Evander. He was too far away, he knew this wasn't possible , but somehow the man's eyes seem to pierce the distant darkness and find him. Evander knew this man all too well. His former mentor, his captor, his tormentor; the only father he had ever known: Lincoln. The man who had reached out his hand and pulled him from the ashes of a burned tent, much like the ones blazing around him now, and offered him a new life with the Riders. The man who had slaughtered his family.

 Evander knew he had made a rash mistake and darted quickly back into the depths of the wood. Lincoln gave a signal and three other Riders followed him towards the trees and into the forrest. It was too late. Evander had climbed as high as he could and leapt from tree to tree, now so far away from the burning encampment that there was no trace of him, no sound. Lincoln almost led his horse to trod over the body of Hob before he noticed it. He dismounted and knelt close to the body. He pulled out the arrow that was lodged in Hob's neck and studied it intently. He could not suppress a  grin. He tossed the arrow aside.

"Be on the lookout, boys" said Lincoln, addressing the two men and mounting his horse once again. "It's not safe out here in the darkness."