It was dusk. The perfect time for anything to happen. The world was settling down, the guards were gradually getting sleepy from dinner. But she wouldn’t be fooled. She would not let her guard down.

The rolling hills, that were still glinting with a bit of golden light coming from the immense fire cauldrons in the enclave, seemed to be barren of all life. But she still wouldn’t believe they were alone.

She knew in her bones there would be an attack. But her superiors would laugh at her if she said a word. After all, a guard only guards, they don’t think. That was left up to the generals and war heroes. As a guard, she would only be expected to yell and fight if the time came and the territory was breached.

She took out her tiny, poisoned-tipped daggers, and laid them out on the ledge in front of her. She knew they would be here, and she would be the one who was ready. Maybe then she would get noticed by a general and could leave from being a guard.

It was just after dusk when the first arrow flew by her.