| Re: Hooks; let's write 'em.
Peering into the distance from high atop their watchtower, two observers could make out a motley band of travelers approaching from the desert. The lead, the guide, appeared to be a mercenary, clad in armor, with a long sheathed sword peaking out from behind. He paced forward, stopping occasionally to allow the rest of the group to catch up. They seemed to be regular people: an old man, two children, four adults, and three teenagers – nothing in particular to watch out for, no weapons, no heavy bags, nothing dangerous. They were tired, sweating and tottering forward in fatigue, and one of the teenagers tripped over a stone, got to her knees, and started yelling at the guide, who in turn turned around and started yelling right back.
The one with the binoculars told his partner to inform the others. |