The riders

The raiders

Tree hooded silhouettes are crossing the crest of the hill, mounted on dark horses, shaped against the purple sunrise sky like the biblical shepherds, restlessly searching for something. They stop and scout the valley ahead of them, waiting for something to happen. There, down below, a small village nestled between the rocky sides of the mountain, marks the exit of this cold, unwelcoming land. Beyond it, vast plains of blooming flowers and trees sit peacefully, cornered around the horizon by the slim blue line of the sea. 

A rooster sings his song, long and dramatic, as if it knows that today is not just any other day. It's spring, 14th of April and as the sun peeks above the forest it hits the last patches of snow from the valley, remnants of a harsh Nordic winter. Today it's the day history will be made, today the journey ends. One of the riders starts down the path towards the village, slow and cautiously. After a moment his friends follow him, lagging a bit behind and keeping a perfect distance between. The leading rider takes her hood off, showing to the nature around that she's not scared, she's ready for whatever is about to come. Her smooth pale skin stretches over the cheekbones, in a grimace, a wicked smile filled with anticipation. Her red hair, peppered with white strands, flutters in the morning wind, as her horse starts gaining speed. At first a faster walk, now galloping, the horse and rider are barreling down the road towards the fragile wooden houses, ready to tear them to the ground if need must be for that. Without a second's hesitation, her companions move up behind, a single line of merciless wolves now, launching down on their helpless prey. Oh and what a pray this is. No beast ever tasted sweeter flesh; no mind ever dreamed of a better meal. And the pray they so tirelessly chase is freedom, as the settlement suddenly comes alive, all three scream with one voice: Freedom! 

The village, so helplessly innocent a few moments ago, is now swarming with life. Men get on top of the rooftops, bust out of damp wooden doors and run across the tiny road, moved by a sense of equally rage and fear. Swords, spears and bows come out. Across the road, a makeshift barrier is hastily put into place, barrels, carts and tall crates being thrown together, desperately trying to stop the inevitable flood, so small but so deadly. The leading rider takes out her sword, looks back at her allies and signals them with a long slashing motion above her head. They're closing in fast now, too fast to stop and as the sun fully comes above, the men all start chanting, a hymn of bravery. But bravery will do no good to them now, and as the riders pass the first row of houses, the time has run out for them. A sporadic volley of arrows wheezes towards the intruders but passes too high, hitting nothing but the frozen grass. The next volley is more coherent, aimed directly in front of the group, and this time it strikes. The leading horse neighs in agony as the small metallic head makes its way in the muscles of his back. With a swift sword movement, his master cuts the arrow clean off and now, as the third volley is primed, they're upon the barricade. With a colossal leap, the trio goes high above the makeshift wall, too weak, too fragile to be a match for their fury. And as they hit the ground, panic rises among the defenders. The line has been breached, the terror is inside, and as they raise their weapons, the proper fight begins. Moving with purpose, the riders don't stop, slowing only momentarily to clash with the angry mob forming around them. They break through, and the screams of their victims scare off the flock of crows, gathered in the forest for the show. 

The mud, now mixed with blood and cold sweat is trampled by 6 pairs of hooves, running to their goal. Ahead, the road is clear now and nothing can stop our strangers from getting their so desired prey. A last arrow wheezes past their heads, and as they pass the last line of houses, the mountains make way for the vast opening of land, a promise of calm and peace. And as they flee, down the road to salvation, all three heroes exhale and whisper together: freedom.