Biting hard on his own tongue the soldier fought the urge to gasp for breath. He clenched his fingers into the cold earth, and tried to slow his thudding heart. Somewhere above where he crouched in the tall grass, he heard the echoing clip clop of hooves, but he couldn't tell from which direction.

The soldier clenched his eyes shut tight. Robert, he knew, had gone down under his own horse when the attack first came. He and Cameron had fled in different directions, and he hadn't looked back or slowed down until his horse, mad with terror, threw him and galloped off. A sharp cry split the still night somewhere to his left, and he heard Cameron's voice plead, "Dear God No!" before it cut off in a gurgle.

Unable to keep his hiding place any longer, the soldier bolted, plunging into the darkness, grass whipping at his legs, and bare branches tearing at his face and chest. Out of no where, a chap reared up in the darkness just in front of him, bowling him backwards and off of his feet. Quivering, he sat in the wet grass as the great black horse came closer, step by step. The steed and its rider were as black as the shadows themselves, the only relief, the silver gleaming of the moonlight on his two drawn pistols.

"When men who should enforce the law hold themselves above it, just men must make them pay." His voice was deadly even and as sharp as a rapier. The soldier fought to make his tongue obey him, to beg for his life, but when the first pistol exploded, he still hadn't found the words.