“Janio! Where are you going?”
The hefty young man donned the featureless black mask and whipped a torch up to eye level.
“The town was ready for this attack. Once the bandits fall back, I’m going to follow them.”
“You can’t! What will you do?”
“They will mistake me for one of their own, why do you think I’m wearing this mask?”
A volley of shouts and scurrying forms broke away from the fighting in the streets, making for the forests. Janio was distracted by this development, leaving Victnor to contemplate the mask he held in his hands. Inwardly, his heart burned for revenge for the first attack.
Several bandits flashed like shadows in their direction, dodging the moonlight by flickering between trees. Janio dashed his torch against the ground and took off. With no time left to decide, Vic snapped the mask on. His vision was slightly reduced through the eye slits. Janio had already disappeared in the wake of shaking undergrowth. Using this guide, with heart pounding, Victnor steeled himself and followed.