By the time the forest was replaced by deserted villages, it was already the evening of the next day. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

"We've got to get something to eat, or we'll starve to death soon. Sonny sat in the saddle and complained, "Hear me, Horn, don't go any further, depending on the situation, there won't even be a moon tonight." ”

"Don't be verbose, hurry up and keep up. Horn shouted back. He's hungry too, but not as bad as Sonny says.

The light faded away, and they walked slowly. Horn felt his body sink more and more, he knew that Sulla and Sunny needed more rest than he did, but he had neither a bow nor an arrow, where could he go to get them hot food, it would sound stupid to catch rabbits with his bare hands, but there were no squirrels or foxes in that damn forest, and it was no easier to catch them than to go to Scourge City. So, it's better to keep going, and maybe you'll run into a village with people in front of you.

"Horn, it looks like someone is catching up. Sulla's voice came from behind him.

Sonny was the first to dismount, Horn followed, and the two led the horses to a half-collapsed hut, with Sula being the last to arrive. "Do you hear me? There seems to be a conversation. Sulla, who arrived at the end, said.

"I didn't hear the hoofs of the horses, Uncle Lawrence's men should be riding. Horn listened, and there was a sound in the distance.

"We shouldn't be hiding together, if it's really Uncle Lawrence, we can cover you and run first. Sonny whispered, "Wait a minute, if it's really him, you remember to run first, leave us alone, do you hear me?"

Horn nodded in the dark. He looked around, and the deserted village consisted only of farmhouses and grassy gardens, a few willow trees by the river not far away, and reed-overgrown muddy shoals, and beyond that, all annoying open fields. Maybe we should continue to get lost in the forest, he thought to himself. But they were so hungry that there was nothing in the damn forest except trees and shrubs.

“..... I saw three horses!" said a man with a gruff voice, "we bet they must have hidden in this village!"

"Bet on what?" asked another man with a slightly thinner voice.

"Archer, bet on him what you have down there. A third voice encouraged.

Three people. Horn thought as he bit his lip. Uncle Lawrence should have brought more than three men, but it was also possible that the forest was too big and he scattered the team. But why didn't these three guys ride horses, they should all have horses.

"Hey, hey, hey!" cried the rough-voiced man, "we've seen you! Come out! The three behind the broken hut are out!"

The hearts of the three of them instantly rose to their throats.

"Three strangers, do you hear the sound of drawing the bow? "It's already aiming!" the second voice shouted, "Come out, we're not bad guys, we just want to confirm your identity, if you're not a fugitive, don't hide it!"

"Horn, what should I do?" Sonny asked softly, "He saw us, kill them?"

"You're crazy, it's Horn's Guard. Sura said quickly.

"Come out, we didn't scare you, the archers really took their arrows and raised their bows!" The first rough voice shouted, "As long as you are not fugitives, we don't need to arrest you, we don't have this idle time, do you hear?"

"Even if you're a foreigner!" added the third.

"Damn, it's not out yet!" the first rough voice became a little annoyed, "Archer, release the arrows!"

With that, Horn stepped out from behind the broken hut. "Assistant!" he yelled at the three. With the torches in the hands of one of them, he noticed that all three were on foot, and their bodies were stained with mud and dust. He recognized the second voice, for the man had indeed raised his bow with an arrow, and was aiming an arrow at him, but seemed to deliberately lower it an inch.

"Can you afford it?" was the third voice. He was about fifty years old, with a large nose and mouth, thick brown hair, faded yellow leather armor patched with leather everywhere, a ring of throwing knives pinned to his waist, a lumberjack's axe hanging from his back, and a torch in his hand that was constantly tossing and jumping in the wind.

"Who are you?" said Horn, but Sonny clung to the broken hut and never appeared.

"Who are we?" the first voice just now chuckled softly. He was a head taller than the man with the torch beside him, and looked like a mercenary. A long sword and a dagger hung from the studded leather sword belt, his shirt was sewn with rows of overlapping iron rings, and he wore a sunken black iron half-helmet. He has a thick yellow-brown beard, and the most striking thing is the green cloak with a hood. It was heavy and thick, stained with grass and blood, and its lower edge was broken.

"Little brother, who do you guess we are?" the archer lowered his arrow, a smile on his face. He was not as tall as a mercenary, red-haired, freckled face, wearing black leather armor, high leather boots, and fingerless leather gloves, with a quiver hanging from his waist and several wild ducks strapped to his belt.

"Little brother?" Horn snorted, "Want to taste the flames?"

"Nipur accent? Oh no, Northside accent, you're supposed to be from North, the lord has recognized your territorial ownership. The tall mercenary said, "What did you just say?" he smiled, showing his yellow teeth, "Would you like to taste our archers' arrows?"

Almost instantly, an arrow flew over Horn's head. The archer's movements were much faster than he had imagined, so fast that Sonny, who was leaning back against the wall, didn't even react, and the archer had already mounted a second arrow, and was ready to draw his bow to his ear.

"You see, we have no ill will, and if we wanted your life, you would be a corpse by now. The archer put down his arrows, "Let your friends come out, it looks like you're not fugitives, maybe I can reward you for your stuttering." So saying, he smiled, and the hand that held the arrow slapped his belt, and the duck hanging on it shook with it.

"If you tell me who I am. Horn beckoned to the side and whispered, "Come out, these three don't seem to be Uncle Lawrence." ”

"Little brother, you really like to inquire. The archer pouted, "Okay, okay, they all call me archers, the tall ones are called mercenaries, and the oldest ones are called throwing knives, ha, are you satisfied?" he yawned lazily and hung his bow on his waist. "Yo, there's a girl!"

"You're catching fugitives, Uruk's fugitives?" Horn remained still, alert.

"yes, yes, we're all going to die!" the tall mercenary complained loudly.

"If your horses and clothes weren't stolen, they should be the nobles of the North City, right?" said the middle-aged man who called the Throwing Knife, "how did you come to Uruk, the North City is not close to here!"

"We're looking for someone. Horn casually made up a lie.

"Looking for whom?" asked the archer.

"If you're willing to share one of our mallards, I'm in a good mood and I'll tell you. Horn said with a smile.

"Alright, alright, for the sake of the god Namu. The archer shrugged, "And for your Kenny Dalton lord's sake, come with us." ”