Gavin kneed Dirge’s strong flank, pulling back on his reigns ever so slightly. Whining softly the stallion slowed his trot to a walk, turning his head to look to his rider with large black orbs. Gavin nodded slowly to his horse, who then swiveled his head to look at where he was going once more. Without losing his sights on the crumpled thing he saw a few paces ahead of him, Gavin drew his long bow and notched and arrow. He then hid the weapon beneath his emerald cloak, unsure of whether or not he’d actually need it. When the pair reached the huddled figure, Gavin found out he didn’t.

“Pity.”

The man who lay in the snow suddenly looked up, eyes hazed and red. Gavin knew what this man was, and it made him deeply resent his decision to stop. He had no time to be dealing with a warmweed addict.

The man stared up at the grizzled assassin like a child pleading for an expensive toy. This brought a grimace to Gavin’s face as he drew his bow once more.

“Be thankful,” Gavin said strongly. “This is mercy.”