This is a chapter that is not written from Ben's point of view.
Sort of like a bonus on my part.
Enjoy!
Chapter 6.5: The Eastern Clearing
The sun was rising above the horizon.
In one of the huts of the Eastern Bandit camp, a man, broad shoulders, sleeveless tunic and a heavy sword next to his straw bed, was trying to go back to sleep. Like every time the sun rose he had woken. He came from a farmers family and still had to lose the habit of waking up by dawn.
He turned in his bed searching for a more comfortable position when he heard a strange yet familiar sound.
When he realized that it was the noise of an arrow planting in the ground he rose up, alert.
Looking through the hut's straw wall he saw shadows walking between the trees. They had forms of men and held swords and pikes but he could not see a hint of white rosy skin.
The shadows spread through the camp, the lower half of there black, green and brown face covered by a wet, mud-smeared cloth. Behind them on the floor, one of the sentinels laid, blood pouring out of a single wound at his neck side.
The camp was being attacked.
The bandit was about to alert his companions when his head started spinning. He turned around and noticed that a strange white smoke had spread throughout the camp.
Wet gargles came from the huts around him. His mind was shutting down and before he realized it, his feet took him away from the camp towards the forest. As he neared the border he tripped on a small rock, fell on the ground. Behind him another bandit who had the same idea jolted and fell over him, an arrows end sticking from his back at heart level.
The bandit stayed still ready to wait until the demons were gone before moving again. The with smoke spread all the way to him and once again he started to lose consciousness.
Not knowing whether inhaling the smoke could kill him, he started crawling on the floor under the smoke coverage, until he reached a ditch and sheltered himself with a few branches. It is there, hidden away from the rest of the world that he lost consciousness.
He woke up three hours later, the sun was high in the sky, the camp silent. After listening to make sure he was alone he left his hideout. Piled up in the middle of the camp a funeral pyre had died, the huts had been used to make it. The camp had been stripped of anything. There was no weapon, clothes or food left.
The demons had taken everything.
Trying to keep his calm he checked his own belongings. A sweat yellowed old tunic, an old trouser, holed socks, and his old necklace. Not seeing any other solution he started walking towards the second camp a bit south-west from here.
The others needed to know that everyone else was dead.