Beneath the Armor: An Elven Desire

Chapter 3

The overgrown road they now travelled down was swallowed by a dense tangle of vines and thorny bushes, making every step forward a challenge. The occasional neighing of horses echoed through the thick underbrush, their discomfort palpable as unseen creatures rustled ominously in the long grass. The men were visibly tense, their hands gripping their weapons tighter as the oppressive overgrowth threatened to obscure any lurking dangers, particularly the possibility of bandits.

"Stay sharp, men. Report anything suspicious," Drake commanded, his voice cutting through the uneasy silence. He sat rigidly on his horse, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with a practised vigilance. Fey clung to her horse, her small form shrinking in on itself as if she wished to disappear entirely. Her eyes darted frantically in all directions, trying to be as useful as possible despite her growing fear.

After what felt like an eternity, the oppressive overgrowth loosened its grip slightly, revealing a small clearing up ahead. In the middle of it stood three men, two horses, and a cart with a broken wheel. "Hold up," Drake barked, his voice sharp and alert. Drax rode up beside him, both men scrutinizing the scene with suspicion.

"A trap?" Drax whispered, his voice barely audible.

The men ahead noticed the group and gave a casual wave before returning to their futile attempts to fix the wheel. "Most likely, an ambush," Drake growled lowly, his eyes narrowing with distrust. Fey watched anxiously as the two strategized on how to handle the situation.

"Men, there might be an attempted ambush ahead. You four, drop back and make your way to the east. You four, to the west. Circle around and see if you can spot them. Stay sharp; none of us are to be wounded today. You three will come with us. The rest, stay hidden and ready," Drake's orders rang out with authority. Fey swallowed hard, the lump of fear in her throat almost choking her.

"Commander, the Elf?" Drax indicated towards Fey, his concern evident.

Drake turned, his eyes falling on Fey. His face remained stern and calculating as he assessed her. "You're right. Elf, put this on, hide your ears, hood up, and head down. We can only hope they assume you're a young male." Drake handed her a piece of fabric, which Fey quickly wrapped around her head, concealing her pointed ears. She then pulled her hood up, further obstructing her view but providing the necessary disguise.

"Yes, Commander," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Drake watched her for a moment longer, his hard gaze softening just a fraction. "Elf, you can ride, yes? Stay close," he instructed, untying the rope that connected their horses.

Fey nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Commander," she repeated, her voice steadier this time.

As the group prepared to move forward, the tension was palpable. Each man was acutely aware of the potential danger lurking in head, their senses heightened and ready for the slightest sign of trouble.

The Commander, Drax, Fey, and three other men who followed on foot approached the group ahead, stopping a cautious distance away. The scene was tense, the air thick with suspicion and unspoken threats.

"Hello, men, how good to see you," called the smallest of the three, his voice dripping with an insincere friendliness. The other two set the broken wheel down, brushing off their hands with exaggerated nonchalance.

"Do you fellows think you could give us a hand? Our wheel got dislodged from this horrid terrain," the larger man grumbled, his voice deep and grating like stones grinding together.

Drake tilted his head sideways, his sharp eyes analyzing the cart. "Interesting. This terrain wouldn't dislodge a wheel. That cart has clearly been here for a number of weeks; the wood's rotted. Probably one of the carts you raided previously," Drake's voice was hard, brooking no nonsense.