The sun was beginning to set on the plains as the small band of companions began to make camp for the night. The site was mostly secure, with one side against a tall ravine wall which allowed for some protection. Rondel made a fire for the group. He kept it small - just large enough to allow for some light cooking and a little warmth, but small enough to avoid attention and to be seen from a distance. His father taught him that. “I’ll take the early watch,” Rondel announced. A so-called “early bird”, Rondel was often awake before well before dawn, packing his things, preparing for the day ahead. The early morning, Rondel found, was the most peaceful. Quiet, still, calming. It was his element.
It’s just before dawn and there’s a rustle in the brush nearby. Rondel, alert and dedicated, checks the dagger at the side of his hip. Ready. The rustle, again, but ninety degrees turn from where it was before. “This creature is fast,” he thought, gripping his dagger, removing it slowly - quietly - from its leather sheathe.
He glances over. The rest of the camp is sound asleep, undisturbed. To investigate or to remain still and watchful? Rondel decides to investigate, but slowly. He moves towards the brush where the rustling last occurred, dagger drawn in his right hand; lantern in the other. His footsteps are deliberate. Quiet. Careful not to disturb a frail leaf; feeling for dried twigs and sticks. Closer he approaches, quietly. Deliberately. Carefully…
“Is all well?” a voice whispered quietly from camp behind him.
A pause. Rondel thought it best not to speak. If it was nothing, he didn’t want to startle the group in their sleep. “Aye,” he replied, hoping the noises were just nocturnal, woodland creatures. Hoping his repsonse was sufficient, Rondel moves closer towards the sound...