A Captured Scout Awaits Death by Spears

[TakeNoPrizners]

Two spears would hold him upright for his mates to find. Though he was his army’s fastest runner, his luck had run out more quickly. No pace escapes the fate of captured scouts. The executioner’s massive shoulders and sinewy throwing arm commanded his admiration, even as he knew that his own lithe frame would scarcely slow a spearhead driven by such force. One slight bit of fortune befell him in his final moments. The first spear was dispatched to his throat. As his knees buckled and his blubbering jaw rested on the solid shaft that propped up his chin, his fading senses barely registered the ripping fire-pain caused by the second spear as it shafted him through the gut and sank deep into the wood behind him.