The journey from Amseldorf to Drachenbrück had taken longer then Molly had hoped or expected. The carts had slowed them down and one of the militia men who had joined her, took a wrong step and broke his ankle as he twisted his foot badly. Even with a healing potion, it had cost Molly a full day, before they were back on the road, leading them towards the north-west, closer to Drachenbrück.
Now, after one week of travel, they were close. Molly knew it. She had travelled this way before. The hills south of the town were covered in long grass and here and there dotted with trees or small forests. As soon as they had left the hills behind them, they would see Drachenbrück. It could not be more then half a days march.
Suddenly their group came to a halt, as without warning two arrows came flying out of nowhere and hit the ground before her feet. From somewhere to the left a voice called down to them:
"Stop right there. No sudden movements, my lovelys, otherwise we would have to stick you with arrows. Who are you and were are you off to?"
Looking around Molly could only see trees and bushes. The hills to the left and right seemed empty. The archers must be well hidden.