An arrow clattered through the brush, narrowly missing Jenn to the left. She did not slow her pace, but rather redoubled her effort to plunge into the deep forest. Another missile skimmed over her right shoulder and left a small laceration as it passed and she cried out in pain without slowing. The thick growth prevented her pursuers from giving chase on horseback, forcing them to dismount and follow on foot. As she ran with her hands stretched out before her to ward off stray twigs and sticks from hitting her face, she dodged left and right to avoid trees and throw off the archers’ aim.

The toned muscles of her legs flexed and released in succession as she ran and her skirt ride up to reveal the sinewy muscle fibers undergrowth. Jenn paid no attention to the rending of her clothing, which was not designed for running and was not ripped and torn from catching the briars. Behind her, she heard the men clumsily breaking into the brush to chase her when she suddenly felt a sharp pain.

Jenn fell headlong in the dirt and decaying leaves of the forest floor and clutched at the wooden shaft of an arrow which protruded from her thigh.

Being unarmed, she snapped the head off of the arrow and dragged herself toward a broad tree for cover. Listening, she waited for the first man to approach and thrusting herself at him with her uninjured leg, stabbed the arrowhead into his leg, then his throat as he fell.

She had no time to spare as the man shrieked before he died, so she appropriated his spear and continued to try and flee, using the spear as a crutch.

The second arrow found a better mark.

Jenn gasped for breath as shelooked into the eyes of the soldier before he cleaved her head from her body. Justice in Taybridge, it seems, was swift, and treason was dealt with harshly.