The Traveler

“Alright, alright, I understand.” That said, he pushes up off his haunches in wanting to have a closer look at the wooden crate strapped upon the makeshift cart.  Less than a yard away, not a sound is heard coming out from inside and as his eyes go to dissecting the wooden crate down to its slats showing off a quarter inch gap, it is the air flowing through that tells of soiled hay.

Shaking his head in disappointment, and knowing he must, he steps towards the two clutching what used to be a working eye. “What’s in the box,” he asks. The one nearest has no problem poking out sizzling words said through clenched teeth. “A f*****g rooster and its dumbass handler, you a*****e!”

Pissed about the filth, his fingers go to work in being all about delivering an agonizing death. Stretched and at the ready, he lets go the taunt bowstring that has him witnessing the arrow lodging deep within the man’s throat. Immediately after, delicate hands wrap bloody fingers around the narrow shaft of the arrow. Wanting to help the man out in removing the obstruction, he walks over and after a hard twist, he is able to pull the arrow free from the man’s throat. Thankless are the dead eyes that has him focusing on the other moaning about being kept alive. Never, he thinks, and making use of the arrow one more time, out comes a blade that will make sure there is nothing left of either’s life before he sets about in looking for a crowbar.