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((Triple Monday -- Page 1 of 3))
“What should we do?” whispered Germal.

“We kill ‘em,” snarled Damian.

“How?” said Germal.

Damian didn’t have an answer to that. He looked at Parson again.

Parson wished he could’ve agreed. He scratched his head, trying to think. Six soldiers versus the three of them? Maybe they could’ve taken one or two, but six? And all armed?

Impossible.

“We’ve gotta do something,” said Damian.

“Yeah, but what?” said Germal.

Parson got an idea. “If we fight, we don’t stand a chance, but... maybe we can at least rescue the girls.”

“How?” said Germal again.

“The horses,” said Parson. “We let ‘em loose. The soldiers’ll chase ‘em. Then we go in and free the girls.”

The other two mulled it over for few moments.

“Sounds good to me,” said Damian.

“Yeah,” said Germal.

“Okay, let’s go,” said Parson.

They moved closer, sticking to the treeline for as long as they could before finally stepping out onto the dirt road. They darted across the open street, mindful of the tavern windows, and snuck up to the horses.

Parson had never much cared for horses. Big, scary beasts was all he’d thought they were. And these ones weren’t proving much otherwise. The first horse he touched was immediately hostile and swung its huge head at him, nearly knocking him over. It whinnied angrily, and the high-pitched noise cut through the otherwise quiet village like shattering glass.

He immediately heard a commotion from inside the tavern, and he just barely managed to pull Damian and Germal behind the corner of a house with him before a man’s head appeared in the tavern window, no doubt checking on the horses.

Parson watched from just beyond the corner, and when it seemed like the man was about to look in his direction, Parson yanked his head back. He could feel his heart pumping just as hard as it had after all that running they did earlier.

After a while, he chanced another peek and saw that the man was gone from the window again.

He breathed a little easier.

“Don’t touch the horses yet,” whispered Damian. “Go for the reins first. Then we’ll spook ‘em.”

“I don’t know if they can be spooked,” said Germal. “They’re warhorses, right?”

That was a good point, Parson felt. And it might’ve also accounted for why that one horse was such an asshole.

“Hmph. Don’t worry about it. I’ll spook those stupid horses.” Damian seemed confident.

Parson wasn’t sure why, though. “What’re you gonna do?”

Damian revealed a hefty stick that he must’ve picked up earlier. “Jam this up their asses.”

Parson opened his mouth but had no words. Yeah. That sure sounded like a plan that Damian would come up with.

“You’ve still got that knife, don’t you?” said Damian.

Parson pulled it out. “Yeah.”

“If they don’t run, just use that.”

“What about me?” said Germal.

“Use your finger,” said Damian.