“Something’s not quite right here,” Bryn said taking a quick look around.
“What do you mean?” Konn asked.
“This field. Where has the grain come from?” Bryn asked.
“I see what you mean,” his companion said, loosening the strap on his sword.
The two had been wandering for weeks through desolate landscapes. The invasion had occurred in the early spring and most of the fields were still unplanted. But even that was last year. How could they have not noticed fresh crops before they found themselves in the middle of the field? How could they have been so oblivious to the signs that there was life to be found somewhere nearby?
“We need to act calmly and angle towards that treeline to the left,” Bryn instructed.
“I’m with you,” Konn replied. Slowly they altered their course and the only real indication that they had changed direction was the trampled stalks they left in their wake.
As they were about twenty yards from the trees a hail of arrows began to fall from the direction they had originally been heading. The pair then made a sprint to the trees, and braced themselves for defence.
“I wonder who is shooting at us,” Konn said.
“Let’s not wait about to find out,” his companion said.
“Agreed,” Konn said.
Once it was plain that there would be no attack they set out again in a way to distance them from the grain field.
“Well, they weren’t Goblins. The arrows are wrong for that,” Bryn observed.
“And they don’t eat bread either,” Konn rejoined.
“Let’s leave the loaves to whoever planted the field.”
“I think that’s wise, but we are going to need find other people eventually.”
“Let’s just hope for a better welcome next time.”