Adventure of Boffo Hardbottle 1

The ambush has torn the wood open. Broken bracken lies trampled flat, and one last orc limps through the trees toward the border path, half hidden by the dark undergrowth.

The Stranger slips ahead between the trunks, sword low, angling to cut off the fleeing raider. Boffo Hardbottle has the clearer line, straight through the saplings toward the open way to the farmsteads.

The orc glances back, sees movement, and staggers toward the same gap in the trees. A cry from him now would carry far over the fields.

For a breath, the wood holds still around the two hunters and the fleeing raider, and the safety of the farms hangs on which of them reaches him first.

Boffo drives through the saplings, bow up, breath quiet, and the fleeing orc snaps into clear view between two black trunks.

He gains the open line at once, the border path beyond the raider now plain through the brush.

The Stranger checks his rush and shifts left, sword still ready, as if waiting on Boffo's shot to force the raider back.

The orc stumbles hard, half-turning toward the trees, and his mouth opens in a ragged warning cry.

His shout breaks on the wood before it can carry far, but it is enough to pull distant answering shouts from deeper in the thicket.

Boffo looses again, and the arrow takes the fleeing orc in the back of the leg. The raider crashes into the bracken with a sharp yelp, his warning cut short.

The orc tries to crawl for the path, but his sword skitters from his grip. He can only claw at moss and roots while the wood closes in around him.

The Stranger steps in from the left, sword still low, and plants a boot on the raider’s wrist before he can reach the blade.

Deeper in Bindbole Wood, the answering cries shift and bunch together, no longer distant enough to ignore. The path to the farms stays open, but only for a heartbeat.