15th day of Fall, 511av
His hand lay upon the hilt of his sword as he prepared himself a moment, his eyes looking towards the hills as his instincts screamed at him to run. There was a brief bit of cover a distance off, about a hundred meters off, amidst some old rusted mining carts that were long covered over in moss.
But he didn't run. Not really.
Why would he be scared of some petching brigands barking up the wrong tree? That was if whatever out there was a brigand, if it was wolves he wondered if he could get a new fur pelt out of the deal. 'Of course, that was only if it was something out there that required his attention in the first place, and his paranoia wasn't playing tricks on his mind-' His thoughts came to a dead stop as a poorly shot arrow thunked into the ground about six paces from him.
'Petch.'
Like a jackrabbit he was off, dashing towards the small bit of cover he had seen, and his heart beat in his ears as things were beginning to start off in the worst way possible. At his heels more arrows flew, barely missing him as he concentrated on one thing: running for his life, as he lifted his legs, kept his chest up and swung his arms really wide. The ground beneath was devoured under his long stride , and soon enough he was ducking into cover , trying to keep himself as small a target as possible.
He heard a bit of cursing from the hills as his body went out of sight, but he didn't care about that right now. All he cared about was that someone had attacked him; which meant they really needed to die so he could be left alone. Knocking an arrow to the string of his bow he took a few short breaths to steady himself before peeking his head up above the cover afforded by his position. His eyes scanned for movement in the hills above for just a brief second or two before pulling his head back down.
Whomever was out there, he couldn't tell where they were coming from.
'Petch.'