Gita finished her exploration of the town in two good hours, recording in her mind just how many villagers were left. Since hardly any were warriors, the wild men had killed all but three score and she had seen merely a dozen children. The assault had been very successful and the last raid would dispatch of the remaining villagers. It was sweet victory that met her eyes as she continued her assessment.
She was moving just out of the shadows of one house when she saw Laurel and a few others making their way down the street. Her breath caught in her throat and she dived back under cover to wait as they passed. Gita watched with flaring contempt as the Swan Lady limped away. What she wouldn’t give to decapitate that pretty little head of hers with the concealed dagger gripped in her left hand. The impulse almost got the best of her but they turned into a house just as she left the shadows, a wicked grin on her face. She cursed under her breath and turned down the opposite way back towards the camp to report her findings to the king. It would be an easy triumph.
Her hopes were dashed as she made her way through the woods. Voices and footsteps ahead warned her of a decent mass of people making their way through the village. From her position behind a gorse bush she witnessed the remains of the Rohirrm army en route to the village and their captain. Some were wounded but there were still a good many able bodied men that would certainly prove a great threat to the wild men if appropriately assembled.
Things seemed to go from bad to worse as she continued on towards camp, Cuor hot on her trail.
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"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say, 'Sh*t, it's raining!'" -- Ruby, Cold Mountain
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