The Green Knight

Chapter 6

The storm clouds that had slowly rolled in now loomed dark and heavy above the Seven Saints as they made their way northeast, heading straight toward the heart of the Black Falcons' remaining forces. The air was thick with anticipation, the faint rumble of thunder in the distance underscoring the tension between them. Rain had yet to fall, but the wind had picked up, rustling the leaves around them as they walked in silence. Beric's hand remained firmly wrapped around the hilt of Killer Hudson's axe. His mind was fixed on one thing: Warren the Butcher. The man who had taken everything from him, who had destroyed Grovegard, killed his friends Gabriel and Hector, and left him broken.

This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to end the Butcher's reign of terror and make him pay for every life he had taken. Rowan, walking alongside Beric, glanced over at him, noticing the tension in his stance. The normally calm and composed warrior could feel the murderous intent radiating off his friend. Rowan, too, had his own reasons for wanting to end the Black Falcons, but he knew Beric's fury was personal.

Rowan: You ready for this, Beric?

Beric: Hrmph. I've never been more ready in my life. Warren the Butcher dies today. No more running, no more hiding. He's gonna face what's coming to him.

Drake: *chuckles* Looks like he's about to meet the wrong end of that axe. I've seen that look in your eye before, Beric. You're after revenge. Or is it vengeance?

Beric: *scoffs* Does it matter what it's called? After everything he's done, Warren deserves worse than death.

Natalie: *glances at Beric, concerned* Just don't let your rage blind you, Beric. We've all seen what the Black Falcons can do, and the Butcher's no fool. He'll have backup, and he'll be prepared for a fight. You can't rush into this.

Beric: *grips the axe tighter* I'm not rushing. I've been waiting for this moment for months. I won't let him slip away.

The group pressed on, the path ahead narrowing as they neared the location. Tall trees flanked them on both sides, casting long shadows in the fading daylight. The wind howled through the forest, carrying with it the scent of rain. Beric's body was tense, his focus unshakable. Every step brought him closer to his enemy, and his blood boiled with the anticipation of the coming fight.

Otis: It's too quiet... You think they know we're coming?

Mr. Armstrong: Could be. But if we keep low and smart, we might still have the upper hand. These bastards thrive on chaos, they won't be expecting us to strike first.

Alice: *nervously looks around* I just... I hope we can do this without losing anyone. We've made it this far... I don't want to lose anyone else.

Rowan: We won't, Alice. We've fought too hard to fall now. We'll get through this. We're ending the Black Falcons today, once and for all.

As they neared the area, the dense trees gave way to an open area ahead. The group halted, crouching low a bit s they looked ahead. In front of them, the Black Falcons' camp sprawled all across, a sea of tents and makeshift structures surrounded by campfires and rows of armed men. At least fifty or sixty of them were spread out, patrolling the area or sharpening weapons by the fires. Beric scanned the camp with sharp eyes, searching for the one figure he wanted most. And then, he saw him.

Beric: *spots him* There he is... Warren the Butcher...

At the center of the camp, standing near the largest tent, was Warren the Butcher. Tall and imposing, donning dark plated armor. He surveyed his men with a mixture of pride and cruelty. Beside him, a few of his men stood, speaking to one another and to Warren, who held Beric's full attention.