An arrow flew down as a hunting falcon. The horses yanked and stretched as the sudden apparition of this wood and iron ornament pierced the ground in front of them. In result, the carriage they drove met an unexpected stop. Everything went silent, as if wildlife had altogether decided it was time to got to sleep even though it was plain morning.
The carriage driver twirled from side to side of his seat, sweat dripping down his cheeks. His hand went for the bolt action pistol on his side. His mouth started twitching when realized it was not there. He looked everywhere, scanning the environment. Thinking, but not doing it at the same time. His primal instincts told him to take a horse off and ride the hell out of there until there was no ground to ride on. But he didn’t. He had a job, a work, a contract.
“Are we there yet?” A voice came from inside the carriage. It was rusty, almost as if a lion’s roaring had been recorded and played backwards. The driver almost jumped off of the carriage the moment he heard his contractor speak.
“N-no, sir.” The driver said. He held tight on the horses’ leash. He waved it as hard as he could in hopes the animals would respond to his action and part like the wind, but in the moment the leather strip waved back down, a glint of light shined in the driver’s eyes, he was confused. Perhaps it was just some water on the ground reflecting sunlight. That he thought until he saw leash had been cut, and there was a cold piece of steel pressed against his neck. He did not dare turn his head to look at his captor, or captors.
He tried to form words, but it was of no use, only senseless babble came out of his mouth. One can’t blame him, for that same babble is what wandered his mind. Tears slowly dripped down his eyes. The gusts of wind made them so much more cold than he had ever felt before. “Whats gon be of maself?” He thought again and again, until that voice sounded a second time.
“Why. Are we not. Moving?!” There was so much anger in his voice, fellow driver didn’t even need to hear it to know if these thugs didn’t end him his boss would. “Heyo, you better calm a little bit, fellow.” The driver’s eyes widened as he heard it. It was soft, it wasn’t threatening, it was a voice to the ear as silk to the touch, almost like a bard’s sweet compliments to the ladies. What was it with this man? Just the sound of his voice made the driver feel so calm. He wasn’t sweating anymore, and it looked like he could articulate words again.
The driver turned his head. He looked at the man holding the dagger. He wasn’t hiding his face behind a mask or anything. Limp black hair, not long, but just enough to be combed, his eyes the same tone, yet, different from other black eyes, his were deep and clear, almost like a manantial during nighttime, his skin hardened by life, but not dirty and without a single crust, he was a good looking man. The driver didn’t stare him death in the eye as some would. Instead, he just asked “you gon kill me boy?”
“Holy foxes of the forest why would I do that?” The boy chuckled, then grinned. “Now if you excuse me,” he took the blade off of the driver’s neck and walked towards the carriage door. The driver could just listen. “What the-” he heard his employer, before the speech being cut by what the driver identified as either a very hard fist, or a mace so blunt and heavy it’d take a behemoth to carry. He went for the former.
Silence. That’s all he could hear until the boy stepped off the carriage, with a bag full of what he presumed was gold and jewels. “Thanks for your time sir,” the boy let a few gems slip onto the driver’s seat, for that’s part of what he does.
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