The elf nodded and, without saying a word, they dived behind the nearest rock. The woman checked the string on the bow and looked out carefully.
— Orcs, — she whispered. — Only three … scouts? No, most likely, deserters. Stay here, I can handle it.
A hot one lay on her wrist, even through a glove, a hand and the young man looked at her with a long look.— Madame, one has lagged behind, will you take it upon yourself? I can handle two.
— But you don’t even have a normal weapon! — the woman hissed and glanced at his little mechel at the belt.
— No, I have, — he grinned. Please, madame, do not waste time, shoot the lagging behind at my signal.
The woman once again looked out of the stone.
— Good.
Howondaland 