• I crouch on the cold hard ground,
    Long green grass grown up all around me,
    As I clutch my bow,
    My mottled cloak blends me in.

    I hear the scuffle of horse’s shoes,
    On this forested trail.
    The first horse emerges from the corner,
    A proud, healthy horse, with a rich looking rider.

    I lie and wait, watching the convoy go by.
    One by one the wealthy men ride on.
    Then a sleek, strong horse struts down the trail:
    The final merchant of the group; My target.

    His luscious robes flowing down his body,
    Rare goods and wares behind him on the horse.
    A gold encrusted scabbard at his side,
    With diamonds embedded in the hilt of his sword.

    Wait for it... the perfect opportunity will arise.
    When the others start to go around the bend, they won’t see him.
    The sun glints off the horses silver spurs.
    They go around the corner, now is the time.

    He trots on, unsuspecting.
    My hand goes to the quiver, two fingers pinch the fletching.
    I see him smiling, unaware of what’s coming to him.
    My fingers wrap around the bowstring, and with a short breath, I draw the arrow.

    The horse stops, his ear starts to twitch,
    A sign of danger to the rider.
    Ignore it... The others can’t know of the danger...
    He starts looking around, but looks right through me.

    He continues on, his eyes shifting suspiciously.
    I center his head in my arrow tip.
    He starts to whistle a weary tune.
    I whisper a small prayer for him...

    I allow the arrow to slip from my fingers
    I hear it whistle through the air before it splits clean through his skull.
    He hits the ground silently into a patch of dried grass.
    I let a small snicker escape my lips, with a smile.