The horizon was a bruise of gold and pink, the half-moon still hanging stubborn and pale amidst the drifting white clouds. A bitter wind howled through the village, carrying the greasy, heavy scent of woodsmoke and roasted pine.
At the first crack of dawn, the charred, barred doors of the temple finally buckled. The invaders, driven mad by the heat and the encroaching flames, came bursting out side-by-side in a desperate charge, like a stampede of buffaloes fleeing from lions.
No doubt hoping to use their superior numbers to their advantage.
But with only one road open it was easy enough to take countermeasures.
He watched with a cold, detached clarity as the rats finally bolted from their hole.
"Loose!" he commanded, his own bow singing in harmony with the others.
