"Ugh," Traven groaned, swatting at something nibbling merrily on his neck. "Damn bugs."

"It's a forest," Daria reminded him of the obvious. "Lots of bugs out here in nature."

She rode behind Traven and Savaran, who were relegated to sharing a single horse. Their mare gimped along with the combined weight she bore. Savaran was on the reins while the ex-prince was sitting up on their mount's backside.

In a cheerful tone, Savaran observed, "General Drugard's first rule. When one smells like shit, one invariably attracts flies."

None of them had bathed since hitching that ride in the back of the manure cart two days ago. And the stench lingered. They'd managed easily enough to subdue the poor, unfortunate elderly man in charge of the dirty deed of removing the foul substance from Twilight Keep. After tying him up once they were well clear of the main gate, they confiscated his less than prize-winning horses to assist their journey south.

To say they weren't the best of mounts was overstating their condition. They were barely serviceable at best, mostly broken down from hard work. What Savaran wished they had was a saddle. This bareback riding was killing his posterior. And he grew tired of how Traven had to keep grabbing him around the waist like a damsel in distress to prevent himself from falling off. It was undignified.

"I figure we're about eight days from Soucaro," Daria proclaimed. "Ten more after that to the lair of our wizard friend."

"Lich," Savaran chimed in as a friendly reminder. "I hope these two blasted nags last that long. Going to take longer if we have to make any of this wonderful journey on foot."

The road they were traveling wasn't the main one south. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But it was a road; or more accurately, a well-worn and exploited trail. The Geres Trail was a popular route for hunters and trappers to take. Because of it being out of the way, it allowed them to apply their trades along the journey and add to their supplies and wares.

Their small contingent had already seen ample game along the route, and Savaran had taken out two squirrels and a young possum they had smoked by the fire on their first night on the road. Fresh meat was a welcome relief to both his and Traven's stomachs.

Daria, it seemed, hadn't been as excited. But she also wasn't on the run either and appeared to have plenty of money for quality supplies. She appeared to have a well-stocked traveler's pack with much higher end food to partake of. Food, she was always willing to share for a price.

Savaran wasn't having any more of her bargaining, which was just a means for trying to cut into his share of the bounty. A bounty he was an unwilling participant in collecting.

"I think this is a terrible idea," Traven leaned in to whisper in Savaran's ear. "You could take her. Then we could both get far away from this extremely disastrous idea."

*THWACK!*

"Ow!" Traven exclaimed as something cracked into the back of his skull. He turned around to Daria tossing another acorn up and down, eyeing him with deadly seriousness. "What was that for?"

"I can hear you," she informed him and smiled.

"You can?" the former prince squeaked.

"Uh-huh," she reiterated, "and I would strongly suggest you put any of those dumb ideas out of that empty little princely head of yours."

"Damn it," grumbled Traven. Savaran roared in laughter.

*THWACK!*

"Ow!" This time it was Savaran's turn to feel the force of an acorn to the back of his head. He turned and scowled at Daria.

"Don't think," she warned him, "that I don't know that you haven't thought the same thing."

"Bitch," Savaran moaned under his breath as he returned his attention to the trail.

Oh, she was right. He just hadn't developed the plan yet to the point where it could be executed. Day and night, he had been running all sorts of scenarios, trying to figure out how to take care of the problem she posed. Ultimately, every incarnation always came down to the same one snag, however. That snag was that he'd have to kill her.

He didn't want to do that. However, killing her was the only way to rid himself of her as a headache.

Savaran had this bizarre mix of feelings for Daria. From respect, to lust, to just not really wanting to kill someone as skilled as she was. All these things played against even his finest plans. He was, therefore, a victim of his own damn indecisiveness.

"Got awfully quiet all of a sudden," Traven pointed out.

Savaran came out of his thoughts to realize that there was indeed an immediate lack of normal forest-like noises. There were no birds chirping. Nothing. He only heard the wind as it creaked and clacked branches while rustling the leaves of the trees. That bothered him. "Daria," he called over his shoulder, "keep on your toes."

When she didn't reply with at least some sort of normal pithy remark, Savaran turned and realized both she and her horse were no longer with them. Traven turned too, realizing something was wrong.

"What? Where is she?" the former prince croaked.

"Shit," Savaran groaned. He was certain she was planning something. Something, more than likely, not good."Keep alert," he barked at Traven.

With a flick of his reigns, Savaran picked up his mount's pace from a slow walk to a light trot. Within a minute, he immediately saw a problem ahead.

That problem was a large tree felled across the road. Large enough it couldn't be jumped over or gotten around quickly. Savaran slowed his pace. "Remember how I said keep alert?" he whispered to the former prince.

"Yeah," Traven replied with his eyes darting around.

"Well, keep really alert," Savaran warned. "And stay quiet."

As the two approached the fallen tree, an unfriendly voice greeted them while trying to be sociable. "Hello there!" it called out. That introduction was followed by a man sporting a long green cloak who walked out into the middle of the felled tree, bow drawn, with a good bead on Savaran's head.

Savaran brought their mount to a halt. "Hello," he replied, mustering an equally and falsely friendly tone. "May I help you? Are you perhaps lost? Or perhaps you're selling Girl Guide Biscuits? Sorry to tell you, but we just bought some from the last green-cloaked hoodlum a few miles ago."

"Oh," the man on the tree gave a fake laugh, "a funny guy, huh? Come on, you know what this is!"

Savaran looked around. He scouted the area as best as he could, spotting three other forms pretty well concealed in the trees, but not completely so."Is it the monthly meeting of Green Cloaked Thugs Anonymous?" he asked.

Savaran's counterpart on the tree shook his head. "Oh, you really are a funny man! Come on, off the horse. You and the boy."

"I take that as a no then?" Savaran queried. "Perhaps the Royal Tree Inspection Service then?"

"You don't follow directions well, do you?" the green-cloaked man drew an even better bead on him.

With a smile, Savaran replied, "Can't say that I ever have."

"Look, friend, we don't need to do this the hard way," the cloaked man said. "And we're really not interested in killing you. We're nice guys. We don't want everything you've got. Just anything of value. Gold, silver, jewelry – that sword, and your bow."

"Get off the horse," Savaran whispered to Traven.

"But -"

"Just get off," Savaran snapped.

Traven did so, awkwardly sliding down the horse's rear end. Savaran followed, swinging his leg over and dismounting much more graceful and dignified.

"So, fork it all over," the thug called out.

"Yeah," Savaran informed him, "that's going be a problem. See, ain't got no gold or silver.  Certainly, no jewelry. And I'm not giving up my sword. Now," he said, taking his bow off his back and laying it on the ground. "If it's this bow you want, you are absolutely welcome to try to take it."

Savaran saw Traven cowering behind the rear of the horse; a dangerous place to hide should she get spooked. But that would likely solve one problem for him if she did. Appreciating that potential outcome, Savaran wasn't about to open his mouth and say anything to warn the no-longer-a-prince. But this mare was so old and laid back, he doubted he'd be so lucky.

Watching the highwayman eye the bow on the ground, Savaran noted that he seemed confused. "I'm not playing games," their would-be robber warned.

"Me either," Savaran replied.

With a flick from the toe of his boot, he brought the bow up into the air. Savaran heard the man on the tree release his arrow and dove forward, plucking his weapon out of midair and pulling an arrow from his quiver at the same time.

The arrow launched at Savaran sailed just past his left shoulder as he tumbled, brought his feet back under him, and prepared his own shot. At first, he targeted his assailant's head. But, despite his instincts, he changed his mind at the last minute. His shot that wouldn't miss flew.

He heard the man scream out in pain, but Savaran couldn't take the time to worry about him anymore. Another arrow ready, Savaran scanned the forest for the others he had located previously. He'd expected a counterattack, but when none came, he relaxed the pull on his bow. Seeing the other three bodies lying there unmoving in various poses with arrows in them signified to him they were nothing but nonthreatening corpses.

The brigand who had been their welcoming committee, and that Savaran had shot, was still screaming. He turned his attention back to the thug who'd fallen off the tree and was rolling in the dirt, the unable to miss shot placed squarely between the man's second and third knuckle. The shaft had embedded itself about halfway up the length of his forearm before the arrowhead jutted out. This poor excuse for a bandit would never use that hand again.

"Damn you!" the pathetic brigand screamed. "My hand!"

Savaran walked over to him and planted his boot in the man's gut. "Next time," he scolded him, "think twice about your career choices and make better ones." Then he buried another kick into him for good measure.

"Nice shot." Daria mock applauded him as she came out of the woods to Savaran's left. "But, aren't you violating one of General Drugard's many first rules?" She stood next to him and regarded the wounded man with scorn.

"Which is?" the former general asked.

She drew up her bow, arrow already nocked and ready, and pointed it at the man's head. Her intended victim froze and went white. "To quote the great General Drugard from the Battle of Nurr, 'Never leave an enemy alive.'"

It took Savaran a split second to realize what she was doing. But when he did, he used his own bow to knock her would-be deadly shot just wide and into the bark of the fallen tree. "Daria," he growled, "enough!"

She sounded surprised. "You're going to let him live?"

"Y - you ..." the highwayman whimpered, "you're General Drugard?"

Savaran bowed to him. "In the flesh. And if I were you? I'd suggest you go and have that looked at. It looks pretty bad." Then he turned to Daria. "And yes, I'm going to let him live. General Drugard's first rule: Dead men don't tell people not to pick a fight with Savaran Drugard."

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Savaran walked back to his mount.

Daria scowled down at the pathetic man whimpering in pain. "You're lucky he's gone soft," she spat on the ground and left him to his misery.

"I assume your horse is somewhere nearby?" Savaran asked as he helped the awkward no longer a prince back up onto their horse.

"Over that rise," she motioned. Then she castigated, "How didn't you see this coming? It was so obvious."

"I got distracted," Savaran bit back.

"Distractions are deadly," she scolded. "And I don't enjoy being put in danger because you aren't keeping your wits about you."

Savaran hauled himself up on to his horse. He leaned over and smiled. "Hey, if you don't want me around, then I'll be more than happy to leave." With a kick to his mount's flanks, he sent it off into the woods to find a way around the tree barricading the path.