Taking my small blade in my nimble hands, I adopt a lower stance, and begin making my way silently towards the camp. Careful not to snap any twigs, or rustle any saplings as I head through the crowded bushes and trees, I finally reach the perimeter of the firelight, and carefully observe the men inside.
The man near the fire is busy cooking, and the discarded bottles of booze near his feet indicate he's gotten himself quite drunk. He's not very big man, and should be easy enough to take down. The other raider is asleep in his hammock nearby, and if I'm lucky and quiet enough, should remain that way for the rest of his life. From what I can see, two of the tents are for the men here, and the third is filled with supplies, indicating these are the only two men around.
I stealthily approach the man from behind, readying my sharp blade. Finally just behind him, I pause for a moment, before leaning in for the kill. Instead of a stealthy kill, I instead stumble over a small pot on the ground. Not quite as drunk or unaware as I thought, he quickly grabs my throat, and begins yelling. His companion from the hammock almost cartoonishly falls out of his makeshift bed, scrambling to grab his weapon and assist the large man holding me off the ground by my neck. Another, equally large man emerges from the woods as well.
"Well, well, well. I knew the other bitch had friends. Did you think you were gonna just sneak in here, and free her? Shit, you'd probably have that blade buried in my chest if I hadn't been paying attention. Fucking whore!" he slaps me, hard, at this statement. "Now then, what are we gonna do with you?".
The edges of my vision are going dark. This is not good.
