SUBJECT: Dwarven Warriors

We may have been a tumbledown pack of Dwarves, but we were no fools when it came to Witch's within the Mirewood. A place men nare dared to roam in, for fear of losing their souls, we plucked onward, silently as the dead to avoid detection. I lifted my gaze in time to see the leader of our group accidentally slip into a shallow pool. My brother lifted him out and instinctively we froze. Hearts pounding so loud that our ears could hear the blood coursing through our own bodies. The stillness persisted. He signaled for us to move once more. I was near the back of our group of seven. Not a place I would have chosen, but rank permitted me such misfortune. I carried the bulk of our cookery. Not a valiant task. The heroes of our mission were Lorinthare near the front of the line, who’s crossbow had cut down a harpie from nearly a mile away and Travinor, a mighty oak of a Dwarf who towered over the rest of us and courageously took the rear of our caravan to ward off any possible threats from behind. Weilding a hefty double edged ax-blade on a handle crafted of the steel we ourselves mined from our homeland, Travinor was a force to be reckoned with and we were happy to have him with us.
“Light ahead” a husky voice from the front of the line called out to us in the back. The line paused, just long enough to take in the change of our landscape. In an instant we were laying flat to the stank moss that reeked of decomposition.
“Damnit!”
I heard Yoland call out. Our leader must have assessed some kind of danger. We still however, were ground to our positions in the muck while the head of our group discussed possibilities too hushed for me to overhear.
“Rupen.” I lifted my head at the sound of my own name.
“We are going to double back. It’s a witch’s hut.” Wedlen informed me. Travinor, directly behind me nodded as well. We turned, still crouching as low as we could get to the ground and began our retreat. We hadn’t made it far when I heard an arrow whiz past my left ear.
“We are under attack!” I called out to my group, as I stood, ready to run as fast as my legs might take me with the weight of the pack on my shoulders. Yoland made his way up to us like lightning. His sword drawn.
“The witch was informed that we would be passing this way. There is a spy among us!”
All eyes shifted from one dwarf to another. That was impossible, we’d been on this mission for 3 months. We had traveled far together. We’d risked our lives for one another more than once. Another arrow narrowly missed Yoland’s shoulder.
“We will have time to discuss this on the other side of the Mirewood.” Yoland declared.
Travinor hefted the ax and allowed us to jog past him, taking up his position at our rear once more. Veering badly off course, we raced together through the water. Voices grew clearer behind us as our pursuers gave chase.
My mind was a flurry. Who was the traitor? How did Yoland determine that, and would we make it out of this swamp alive? I trusted every man with us. I grew up with a few of them. I did not want to think that after all this time, we were betrayed from within.