Not quite

Hal and Faldor travel along the road through the quiet forest, the only sounds being their horses and the gentle creaking of the heavily laden wagon. They take the same route they followed on the way there, but Hal can't shake the feeling something isn't right. As they round a corner into a clearing, they see a fallen tree blocking the road, which was not present on the way there. Hal takes a deep breath, calming himself, before he remembers one of Woden's lessons. His mind is filled with the memory.

A young Hal and his mentor, Woden, are walking through a forest, not unlike the one Hal is in now, discussing the last lesson the apprentice learned.

"Do you understand the reason behind tactical fighting now, boy?" Woden asks, turning to look at his apprentice. Hal remembers his face, ruggedly handsome, with greying dark hair and a medium length beard. He was often mistaken for Hal's father.

The young Hal nods "Yes, Woden, it can give you an advantage in a situation where you might not have one."

Woden smiles "Aye. Take fighting in this forest, for example. If you wanted to kill me, how would you do it?"

Young Hal's brow furrows as he thinks about the best method to fight in a forest. "The trees."

"What about the trees?"

"They're dark. Good place to hide. I'd shoot you with my bow from a tree."

Woden nods in approval "Good answer. And what about if you had command of ten men to kill me, what would you do then?"

Quick to answer, the young apprentice speaks "An ambush. Five men on each side of the road, all attacking on my signal."

The older Ranger grunts in affirmation. "You're learning."

With his mind back on the present, Hal grabs the reins, pulling the wagon to an abrupt halt. He scans the treeline, not spotting anything on his first pass over. The second time he looks, he sees the glint of steel in the sunlight for barely a second. "We aren't alone here, Faldor."

"We're not?" Faldor responds nervously. "What are we going to do?"

"Nothing yet. I don't know how many of them there are. If it's one or two, fighting is our best choice. Too many more and we might be better to submit. My mentor used to say 'Never start a fight you can't win.'."

"Do you think you can win if we have to fight?" The barkeep is still nervous, fear drips from his voice.

"Aye. Woden might've told me to avoid fights if I had to, but he also taught me how to kill." Hal grabs his axe from the leather loop on his belt, testing the balance in his hand as he gets comfortable. "If this is a trap, I'm going to go and spring it."

"You're... you're going to what?"

"I'm going to walk ahead, and talk to them."

"Is that safe, lad?"

Hal grins "Not in the slightest." With that, he jumps down from the wagon, walking casually towards the potential ambush spot. Inside, he is terrified, but his outside demeanour is cool and confident, with his axe resting comfortably on his shoulder. He walks about thirty feet in front of the wagon, with the fallen tree another twenty ahead of him, before stopping. He takes a breath, calming his nerves, before speaking. "I know you're here."

Seconds later, he hears rustling and quiet chatter coming from both sides of the road. Shortly after, bandits climb out from the bushes. There are four total, two from each side. On his left is a bulky man with a maul strapped to his back and a pretty woman with a scimitar on her hip. On his right are two men who appear to be twins, both with shortswords in their hands.

"We have you outnumbered, handsome." The woman says, her tone playful, yet containing a hint of malice.

"Yes, you do. Four on one, not great odds." Hal chuckles, acting far more confident than he feels. "I, and my friend, need to pass."

"Do you now? And what are you going to do about it?" She smirks.