1st Draft

Ambush at Hope Hollow

“Isahn!” Anders called. A grave expression danced across his face as he stared into the campfire. “We must make Stonecypher by nightfall. I dare not hope to know what will become of our lord if we delay any longer!” Anders spoke angrily. “It is my wish to return to my people, if any are left alive.”
Isahn replied with frustration, “Saddle your horse and fulfill your foolish wish!”
“But, General - !” Anders flinched.
“I am a General no longer, Prince!” Isahn countered.
“If we do not reach Stonecyhper in time none of us will ever go home! All of our people would choose death, than face him!” Anders was spitting flame now, fueled by the campfire.
“Is this babble really necessary?,” Amoreth was becoming impatient.
Isahn challenged her, "It would do you well to remember who rescued you at Evermount, Anders"!
"Enough of this!" Amoreth turned her back on the fire to gaze into the brush of the Wildlands. The orange glow of the fire made her golden hair and eyes look like boiling amber. She’d heard tales in her youth of a wonderful flower that grew hidden deep within the forests of Deepstep. Now she wondered how anything could be as beautiful as she had imagined it. The Miranda Wars had left a scar on most of the Wildlands. Amoreth wondered if that scar would ever heal. It seemed that everything in this forest projected a feeling of dread. A light wind would blow to soothe the trees, to stretch old limbs, but all movement was forced. No comfort could reach them. Birds could be heard, wings rustling and beaks pecking, searching for food, but none would sing.
Amoreth whispered, “This is truly a dreadful place now. What will become of us?”

“Ambush!” Isahn saw them first. He had walked east down the rivers edge to avoid speaking to the others. He was embarrassed for carrying on like a child with Anders. There was no time for such foolishness. Stonecypher was at least two more days ride, and now this. To the southeast Isahn saw Amoreth fall to the ground behind a quarry. Fear enveloped him. Dusk was upon them and he could not determine if Amoreth had been wounded. “Burn these old eyes” Isahn cursed himself. Farther southeast, between the quarry and the open plains of the Wildlands, trees had somehow survived the flames of war. Black arrows with silver tips came from the dark places between those trees. Isahn examined the tips of the arrows; silver heads with sharp geometric patterns marked them Mahadrohlin arrowheads.