The Owl Pendant

[Kindling]

Just some (very) short fiction, nothing to do with anything in particular, really.
Feedback, whether positive or negative, is more than welcome.
Enjoy!

[spoiler]The wanderer trudged down the narrow track, lashed at by the unrepentant rain, his cloak sodden through. It was nearly dark, and he had still not reached the walls of Hallowfield.
He paused a moment as a violent sneeze shook his body, and then plodded damply onwards through the storm-wracked pass.
After a few minutes more, he began to feel watched. He tried to glance up at the black, blade-like mountains to either side of him, but could see nothing through the sheets of rain.
His hand drifted, almost without him noticing, to the hilt of his sword.
Over the noise of the storm, a voice boomed out, itself like thunder in its volume and tone.
â,¬Å"Halt! You have something of mine. I wish it returned to me.â,¬Â
The wanderer peered ahead through the tumult of falling water, and made out the vague outline of a mounted figure on the path ahead, looming like some dark spectre out of a brutal nightmare.
 Ã¢,¬Å"I have nothing of yours, sir. You must have me confused with another,â,¬Â he replied, affecting calm despite the malignant chill of fear that had stolen upon him.
â,¬Å"On the contrary,â,¬Â the rider boomed, edging his mount forward, â,¬Å"I believe you wear a pendant about your neck. A silver owl, yes? A gift from that dark-haired girl you so miss. The one you met in Shadowmire.â,¬Â
â,¬Å"How do youâ,¬Â¦ Well, sir, I think myself no poor judge of character, and I cannot believe that my Ana is a thief. Again, I say, you must be mistaken.â,¬Â Beneath the soaking folds of his cloak, the wanderer loosened his sword in its sheath.
â,¬Å"Impudent whelp. I am never mistaken.â,¬Â The rider was now a mere few yards away. â,¬Å"If you will not surrender it willingly, it must be taken!â,¬Â
As the rider spoke two men burst through the rain from either side of the wanderer, one wielding an axe, the other a shortsword.
With a sound like a steel demon crying in pain, the wandererâ,¬,,¢s sword flew free. In the same motion it arced about to bury itself in the shortsword-bearerâ,¬,,¢s chest.
As he struck, the wanderer shifted his balance subtly, twisting at the shoulders and waist, so that the axe-blade hummed by him inefectually, throwing its wielder off balance.
While the axeman recovered himself, the wanderer hurriedly freed his blade from the dead manâ,¬,,¢s ribcage, and let the corpse fall to the muddy ground like a dropped sack of meat.
Instincts and quick reflexes had saved him from the first rush, but now he looked at his opponent, he saw the man was larger and stronger than he, and his wicked axe made for a devastating weapon.
The rain was in the wandererâ,¬,,¢s eyes as the axeman swung at him, and he was barely able to avoid a beheading. Even so, the side of his neck was cut, and a stinging pain accompanied a flow of hot blood onto his shoulder.
He danced away across the slippery mud, towards where the rider had been, mere seconds before. The axeman bellowed murderously and charged, again slashing wildly at the wanderer.
Seeing the great blade swinging towards him, the wanderer took a gamble. Taking his cloak, he swung it into the path of the axe. The thick fabric, heavy with rainwater, tangled the weapon, and stopped its progress.
Taking advantage, the wanderer stepped close to the axeman and thrust his sword deep into the manâ,¬,,¢s midriff.
The big warriorâ,¬,,¢s bestial howl of pain died off to a gurgle, and then he fell to the ground.
The rider was nowhere to be seen.
Wiping the blood from his sword and then sheathing it, the wanderer turned, and continued onward, towards Hallowfield.
[/spoiler]

[CYMRO]

Good combat description, just go a little more lightly on the -ly adverbs.

[Kindling]

Mm, yeah, good point.
I had it finished, you see, and then read it and thought it looked a little bland, so I proably went too far trying to compensate :)