"Easy lads, we don't want to start anything here."

Chief of guards, Trufus, was trying to look in all directions at once as the approached the stunted tree. Was it some elaborate trap? Was it part of an attack? Had he even seen what he'd thought he'd seen from the corner of his eye?

He, and his team of five handpicked guards, reached the tree and quickly circled it. They found the stranger lying awkwardly amonst the bare roots, completely silent save for short panting breaths.

"He's hurt," Trufus declared, a note of relief in his voice as he made the obvious statement. "Quickly, you, get back and bring a stretcher of some kind. You, Goral, go tell Shandon what has happened. Have him slow the caravan briefly until we get him back and treated."

The men jumped to their tasks quickly.

~

Shandon listened to the report with interest. So, Trufus had caught one of the scouts. He could scarcely believe their watcher had falled from his post. But one persons misfortune was anothers luck. As gift or hostage, this person would help ensure a peaceful welcome from the people ahead.

On impulse he decided to see this scout. He called for Barat to bring him a horse, and then to take the reins and keep the direction straight. The young boy could hardly believe his luck, given chance to guide the caravan forward! Shandon chuckled at his enthusiasm, and trotted his horse back down the caravan to where his guest would be taken for treatment of his injuries.

Trufus met him outside.

"How is he?"

"A couple of broken ribs, some bruising. Nothing life threatening to someone like him."

Shandon paused a second, wondering what he meant by 'someone like him', but instead gave his reins to his chief of guards and hopped into the back of the wagon. Almost immediately understanding washed over him. The scout, lying in the middle of the wagon in the process of being wrapped in various bandages, was young. Not far past boyhood. Barechested, and tanned from months in the sun, he was fit, toned and well muscled. So healthy, someone like this would heal quickly as Trufus had hinted at.

"Is he awake, can he hear me?" Shandon asked of the healer, and received a quick nod in return.

He moved closer, so he could see the face. The eyes were indeed open and were staring at him.

"Who are you? What is your name?"

The long, low sound of his travelling horn blasted out in the distance. For a boy, Barat sure had a pair of lungs on him to blow it that loud. More importantly it meant they had company or had arrived at their destination. With a hurried order to keep treating him, and be ready to bring him up to the front, Shandon left the wagon and cantered his horse back up to his own wagon. Trufus followed at his right side.

On arriving at the front, Shandon took it all in at a glance. A slight dip to the land had given illusion to the distance, and they found themselves on the edge of a crude looking village. Apart from the smoke, coming from scorched earth at various parts of the village, nothing moved. Not a person could be seen. Shandon was confused, but wary.

"Call a halt here, have them set up in whatever formation you want for security. Have them ready for a swift departure. And bring the scout forward. Perhaps he can explain what's going on."

Trufus saluted and rode off issuing orders. Shandon stared at the silent village. Unless some other option became available he intended to go down there with just a small group of guards. If there was trouble to be found here, he didn't want the whole caravan mixed in with it.

__________________
"The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own satanic herd."