That Don’t Impress Me Much : Part 54

Wordcount: 313 words
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Please note, this is currently a very rough draft. There will be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, flat out contradictions, and uneven characterization and pacing. (Content is also subject to constant change as I take an editing chainsaw to the story.)

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~*~*~*~*~

It’s A Trap

One of the sentry foxhawks glided back into camp and bounded over to the command tent.

“They’ve stopped on the road, they must have seen something.”

The fleet commander cursed. “Dammit, we needed them closer. Are we sure they don’t have another runner?”

“They’ve foxhawks, but I don’t see any other horses. Mostly just the wounded and civilians.” The foxhawk, flipped its wings against its sides and stretched like a cat. “We can take them now, if you want, I don’t see how they’d put up much of a fight.”

“Which is why you are not in charge.” Admonished the older foxhawk who was lying behind the commander. “Just because they are not in uniform does not mean they can’t fight.”

“Do we have enough people to defend the town as well as capture them?” Asked one of the other commanders. “We’re spread a bit thin as it’s, I think. Even with everyone confined to the caves. Who knows how many back doors they have out of that place.”

“It was still safer than having them in their homes,” the commanded pointed out mildly. “We need to keep our forces against a single front—we’re too small to survive otherwise.”

“So now what?”

“Now we wait. They know there’s something wrong, but they don’t know what or they’d be running back to Pine Reach already.” He tapped the map they’d taken from one of the houses. “Keep an eye on them, and pick-up any runners they send out. Just make sure you pick them up out of sight. Better to keep them guessing then let them know.”

“And if it’s foxhawks?” The elder turned to look at him. “What then?”

“We’ll leave those to you.” The commander nodded respectfully. “As always.”

“The Elder turned to look at the scout, who nodded and then headed back out of the tent and into the rain.

~*~*~*~*~

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Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!