Crow didn’t have to wait long before the first sounds of battle reached him in the stable. He stood rigidly and notched an arrow in his bow, his eyes fixed on the road as he saw the Younisian knights charging forward to meet the Brerratic knights in combat. Even in the beginning of the battle they were already behaving recklessly, knocking over whatever was in their paths and shoving aside villagers who had appeared to protect their homes. The sight made the thief clench his jaw in frustration. He wished he could run out and face them head on, but he knew he couldn’t leave the safety of the stable.

Taking a calming breath, he raised his weapon and took aim at a Younisian knight that was headed straight for a small group of peasants with his sword cocked back to swing. Just before the man could bring down his blade, he collapsed to the ground with an arrow protruding from his eye. Crow reached over his shoulder and drew another one from his quiver, loading it into his bow as he searched for his next target.

The beginning of the battle went smoothly for the thief. He observed everything from a distance and shot down any knights whom he saw try to harm the villagers. He was just starting to think that this fight would go just as well as the last, when he reached back to retrieve another arrow and blinked in surprise as his fingers brushed air. In his focus on what was happening in front of him, he hadn’t realized how quickly he had been using them up this time. He cursed under his breath and glanced out the window again as he debated what to do. It was dangerous to walk directly into the battle to collect the arrows he had lost, but he couldn’t just stand around and watch as the villagers got slaughtered. He had to do something.

Having made up his mind, Crow shouldered his bow and took a step back on the beam to turn around and walk back to the crates he had used to climb up. The wood creaked beneath his weight, but he ignored it, since it had proven to hold him up the last time. Moving carefully, he managed to get halfway across when suddenly, the rafter emitted a low groan and shifted beneath his feet. He froze, eyes wide as he realized he was trapped. In the next moment, the wood splintered apart, and he let out a startled cry as it collapsed, taking him down with it.

He hit the ground hard and laid still for a moment as he tried to collect himself. The goats, spooked by the loud noise, had begun bleating frightfully. The thief sat up and held his head dazedly, grimacing as he felt warm blood pour from a gash above his right eye. As he came back to himself, he bristled as he realized how much noise the animals were making. “Shut up,” he hissed at them, glancing worriedly at the door. Of course, his warning did nothing to lessen the goats’ frightful bleating.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before someone came to investigate why the animals were making such a racket, he hurried to get up. However, as he tried to move his right leg he gasped and brought a hand to his mouth, biting down to suppress a whimper of pain. When it passed, he looked down to see what was wrong and paled as his eyes fell on a large splinter of wood from the collapsed beam that had driven itself clean through his thigh. The sight made him feel nauseated and he averted his gaze, fighting the urge to lose his breakfast.

He turned back toward the door as he heard the sound of voices outside. The knights had found him. Trembling from a mixture of pain and fear, he swallowed and forced himself to look at the splinted rod in his leg. It was too agonizing to leave it in. He had to get it out before the knights found him. Taking a shaky breath, he gripped one end of the wood firmly in both of his hands and pulled, biting down on his tongue until he tasted blood to keep from screaming. Just as he finished tearing the rod out, the door to the stable swung open and two Younisian knights stepped inside.

With no time to take care of his now freely bleeding wound, Crow forced himself to stand up and drew the daggers at his waist, his eyes flicking between the two men as he glared at them with as much venom as he could muster.

The knights seemed surprised to find what looked like a regular peasant, but one of them narrowed his eyes as his gaze fell on the thief’s bow. “Check it out,” he nudged his comrade. “Looks like this is where those arrows have been coming from.”

“You’re the one who killed Brinley?” the other knight curled his lip and raised his sword. “He was my brother, you bastard!”

Crow took a nervous step back as the knights began to approach him, wincing as the motion sent another seizing wave of pain up his leg. Badly injured and outnumbered, he knew he had no chance at defeating both of them. He had to find a way to get out before they cornered him in the stable. His green eyes roved quickly over the room as he looked for an exit point, but the only one he could reach was the door on the other side of his opponents. He had to get past them if he wanted to make it out.

He snapped back to attention and lifted his dagger to block as one of the knights drove his sword down at his side. The second was quick to follow with a strike at the thief’s head, which he dodged by ducking down. Heart pounding, Crow gritted his teeth as the motion caused another issue to arise that caught him off guard. He staggered as a wave of dizziness turned the world sideways and made him see double. Shaking his head, he raised his weapons again to defend himself and narrowed his eyes to try and stay focused. If he could just slip around them somehow, he could make a run for the door and look for somewhere to hide…

Suddenly, he inhaled sharply as the knights came at him again. He managed to just barely avoid their attacks, but not without a cost. He stumbled again as the combination of the wound in his leg and the dizziness in his head nearly dropped him to his knees. Panting heavily, he lifted his weapons once more and shot the knights a stubborn glower.

The two Younisians exchanged an amused look. “Is this guy drunk?” one snorted, pointing his sword at the thief’s chest.

“I think so,” the other chuckled. “I’ve never seen such a sloppy performance, even from a peasant.”

“Oh yeah?” Crow spat on the ground. “If I’m so sloppy, then why can’t either of you touch me?” In the back of his mind, he knew he was being foolish by taunting them when he had no chance of winning, but he was too lightheaded to think rationally.

“I think it’s time we stop going easy on this punk,” the first knight snarled. He sheathed his sword and stepped towards the thief. Crow cringed and tried to step back, but he wasn’t quick enough. The knight caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, pinning him while his comrade approached with his blade pointed at his throat. Crow struggled against his grip, but between the blood loss and the fatigue of his illness, he didn’t have the strength to get away. He turned towards the armed knight and leaned back, wide eyed as he realized this man was really going to kill him.

“You’re going to pay for killing my brother,” the knight threatened. He drew back his sword and the thief closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable sting of the blade.

However, the strike never came.

Instead, he heard a thump and opened his eyes to see Rikki standing over the motionless body of the knight. In the next moment, the female thief let out a cry as she charged at the knight who was holding Crow. She drove her sword into the man’s side, sending him toppling down beside his dead comrade.

As soon as he felt the grip slacken on his arms, Crow’s eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the ground as well. Rikki hurried to kneel down at his side. “Are you alright?” she asked in a voice that was breathy with panic. She gasped as her eyes fell on the gaping wound in his thigh. “You’re hurt.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he mumbled bitterly, his eyelids fluttering as he felt himself slipping out of consciousness again.

“Crow?” Rikki pressed a hand to his shoulder and shook him gently. “Come on, stay with me. You have to stay awake.”

“I’m trying,” he groaned. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“I’m going to get help,” she said, standing up again. “Just stay here, and stay awake.”

He nodded faintly, “I’ll do my best.” He watched dazedly as she ran out of the stable, closing the door behind her. Now alone, he found it much more difficult to follow her instructions. The fatigue of his illness seemed to intensify with the blood loss from his injury, leaving him too exhausted to do anything but breathe through the pain and try not to pass out. He hoped she would come back quickly, because he didn’t know how much longer he could fight off the urge to let go of consciousness. With every passing second, the temptation to close his eyes grew stronger.

With a burst of effort, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this terrible, and he suddenly found that he wished he had taken everyone’s advice and stayed away from the battle. It had been foolish of him to think he would be alright when he was in such poor health.

Feeling something warm on his lip, he brought a hand to his mouth and then raised it up to his eyes. He frowned as he saw that he had come away with a viscous red liquid on his fingers. [i]Blood?[/i] He felt a fresh wave of panic as he looked up at it, and his eyelids fluttered again. [i]But that means…[/i] He didn’t finish the thought as his illness finally overpowered him and he blacked out.