Suddenly, there is a terrifying growl and a large weasel bursts from behind a grove of trees, tackling Halpra in a shower of snowy powder. But the growl abruptly changes to a howl of pain. The weasel jumps back, clutching an injured arm. Halpra crouches, her dagger ready for another strike.
“The little mouse has a sting,” the weasel sneers, drawing the long blade of his sword. Halpa draws a second dagger from her belt. The weasel eyes her with amusement. “You won’t win,” he laughs callously, his stained yellow teeth glistening, “I will eat you.”
“Will you?” asks Roth. The weasel jerks his head towards him, shocked. It’s clear he thought Halpra was traveling alone. Roth is calmly drawing back his crossbow string. The weapon makes a definite click in the silence of the woods. "I think you definitely will NOT," Roth adds dryly.
In a flash, the weasel is across the path and running into woods. You watch him flee, unable to stop the trembling in your legs. There are bright drops of weasel blood on the snow, gleaming like rubies. The other mice drew their weapons instantly and knew what to do when attacked, but you were too shocked to react. You feel useless, vulnerable, and scared.
Halpra sheaths her daggers. “He’ll be back with his pack. Very soon. We need to get off this path. We’re not safe.”
“What are our choices?” Roth asks
“Take the summit path. Cross the river. Or find a place to hide until they give up.” Already, you can hear the growing shouts of more weasels.
