Wading back across the stream, he found the best place to give adequate view of his quarry while concealing his own presence and settled in for the wait.
A scant brace of hours ambled by with few riders and only one coach passing before the small lad wearing Kwenn’s livery cantered into view. Always an exceptional marksman, Rocnar took careful aim, allowing the horse to bring the boy closer. The sound of the shot rent the air and caused the horse to plunge and buck as its rider slipped onto the roadway, blood staining his jerkin from the neat new hole over the center of his heart. (From Tanella’s Flight, by Scott Ashby) http://tinyurl.com/mc4gp2l