A loud clang echoes across the hillside. The bandits are wide awake and ready to carry on their path. Fairfax shrugs my arm to rise. I stand and attempt to stretch my back. The dirty scoundrel takes his position at the hand cart.
"Aye, boss," the smelly one calls out. "Maybe our new 'friend' would like to help move our haul."
"Negative," Averill replies with a scowl. "The elf would require the use of his hands. I'm not willing to risk his escape."
The underling glares towards me. I shrug my shoulders. 'I would have already left them in the night if it wasn't for their watch.' My thought crosses with a sense of disappointment. The odds are against me at the moment. Even the pudgy one would put up a fight if I sprint away from their party.
The sun is warm and the breeze provides a coo
