Snippet #2480341

A strode a horse a middle age man bumbled along. His leather and steel armor was dusty and wore from long travel. Exhausted he staggered every few steps of the horse. He looked up trying to figure out where he was.
"Miles from the border..." He muttered to himself. He had been on his way to Voda from the capital of the Shifter nation. He had a scroll case tied to his back, under his travel pack. "Might as well stop off and get some dirty looks with something to eat." he said to his horse, Molly. Molly was a 4 year old chestnut color horse of no real magnificence. His sword clattered against the saddle and his arrows chimed in irritation as he horse pushed on the the town, he was about a mile out of the small nameless town. The woods to his left made him uneasy and he kept a wary eye to them. How many times had he been ambushed by shifters and humans alike? How different were our people from theirs? He didn't understand the whole stalemate war that was going on, nor did he agree with it. He knew it was never going to be peace and rainbows but still, people could be civilized.

He staggered forward and caught himself from falling off his horse. Pay attention. He forced himself to ride with a proper seat, his recurve bow jabbed at his shoulder,it was unstrung and was cased with his arrows. The spear he had in a sling kept hitting against his knee each time the horse took a step and he was pretty sure it was bruised by this point. I can rest for a day there unless they run me out of town. He thought. His stomach growled and twisted its self into knots. And grab something to eat...