Six men were led from the cave with their hands tied behind their backs. A few were bleeding but she could see that no man had suffered a mortal wound from the encounter. She then looked closely at the Rangers to see if any of them had been wounded. It seemed that they had been lucky for she could see no blood on any of them.
The prisoners were placed on their horses, which were in turn tied together. One of the prisoners was mounted on one of the pack mules - his horse was lame. Flindra felt a moment of pride at this last detail. Her tracking skills were still sharp. She knew that her father would have been proud of her.
The Rangers returned to their horses and the lieutenant gave her a brief nod after he mounted. "Thank you." He turned his attention to the sergeant. "Leitho, fall in behind the prisoners and see we don't have any stragglers."
"Yes sir."
The group rode out of the forest with the prisoners closely guarded. Flindra noticed one of the prisoners staring hatefully at her. She couldn't recall ever seeing the man before. He was slightly built with a sallow complexion. Long, greasy, brown hair hung loosely about his face and shoulders. He looked like a scoundrel and she wondered if he was the type of man who had been recruited to fight under Duke Bhrag's banner. If he was, it didn't speak well for the Duke's judgment.
He continued to scowl in her direction and she could sense almost palpable waves of malice accompanying his stares. She strengthened the purple aura about herself but kept it safely at skin level to avoid detection.
The Rangers finally halted for the night, several hours shy of the next village. With practiced efficiency, the troopers began preparing the encampment for the night.
Flindra dismounted and looked uncertain what to do.
"We're camping here for the night," the lieutenant explained gruffly. "Stay by the fire and keep out from under foot."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
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