Before the Bell Rings

Lady reaches the rebellious warriors’ hideout beneath tangled roots and black pines. Near the concealed side passage, an old hermit crouches in a patched gray cloak, his white beard brushing the dirt.

Just beyond the entrance, a broad-shouldered adult man in a dark leather enforcer’s coat hangs awkwardly in a crude snare, boots scraping the earth as he struggles.

The hermit presses a weathered hand toward the captive’s mouth, but the enforcer twists away. His next cry rolls between the trees, answered by distant calls.

Faint lantern-glows flicker through the surrounding dark, moving between trunks. The hermit looks toward Lady at last, one finger raised in urgent silence, while the captive thrashes again.

Lady rushes to the hanging enforcer, hooves scattering pine needles. After one measuring glance, she draws a leather band from her bag and cuts it free.

She binds the band firmly across his mouth, silencing his cries as the snare sways. The approaching lantern-glows continue shifting between the trees.

The old hermit exhales through his nose, then gestures sharply toward the roots while keeping his eyes on the distant lights.

Lady fixes the enforcer with a hard, unwavering glare. Her scarred face remains still, but the challenge is unmistakable: speak, and risk what follows.

He shifts against the snare, then stops beneath her stare. The leather gag holds, yet his muffled retort carries farther than intended through the pines.

A buckle strikes the enforcer’s coat as he struggles, making a sharp metallic click. Beyond the roots, boots crunch over needles and a patrol voice calls.

Lady growls low in her throat, seizes the enforcer, and hurls him against the nearby rock. He crumples unconscious, the gag still secured.

She climbs the steep hill above the concealed roots, hooves gripping soil and exposed stone. Pine branches scrape her scarred arms as lanterns brighten below.

At the crest, Lady draws her bow and sets an arrow to the string. From between the trees, armored patrol members, several adult human soldiers in dark iron helmets and layered leather-and-metal armor, carrying lanterns and short swords enter the clearing, searching.

The hermit drags the unconscious enforcer toward the roots, keeping low. Below, the patrol spreads out, boots crushing needles beneath wavering lanternlight.

Lady releases the bowstring without hesitation. The arrow cuts through the lanternlight and strikes the patrol captain; he drops at once, his command dying with him.

For one breath, the clearing freezes. The captain’s lantern rolls across the needles, throwing wild bands of gold over the startled soldiers.

The patrol breaks exactly as Lady expected. Two soldiers flee between the pines, another abandons his lantern, and the rest stumble backward toward the false trail.

Below, the old hermit hauls the unconscious enforcer beneath the roots. He glances uphill at Lady, equal parts alarm and reluctant admiration, while the last armored figures vanish into darkness.