Four years ago from current times, whilst Hund was serving his second year in Stangard.
The grass was glistening with dew under the early sunlight, and through the land a hunter waded through it, the curve of wood that made his bow in his left hand, and the three fingers on his right hand pulling back its bowstring with an arrow half drawn. His red hair was hanging down the side of his face, beard broken by a faint smile as he followed the path of some animal.
The prey was there in front of him, it’s trail left in the grass like a valley, with the doe in the centre a bit further away. Langhund paused, and pulled back further on the string, tension building in both muscle and bow as he lined up the arrow. His fingers started to ache. His heart pounded in his chest, and a tingling went down his spine as his eye closed to take aim. The shot would be perfect… if not for the interruption of a heavy boot swinging out of the grass beside him His bow was kicked off course and out of hand, and fell to the earth.
“What are you doing?!” Hund exclaimed as he rose up, an angered glint in his eyes, until he realised who it was. The two brothers: Siward, with a great blond beard that reached his stomach and a shaved, scarred head, who stood at least a head taller than Hund, and his brother, Sigward, practically identical save for a braided beard and hair. Siward was armed with a round shield, green with yellow paint swirled around them, and in his other hand he held a sword. His brother bore only a large axe.
“Hello, Little Hund.” Sigward pushed his shield into the half-blood and sent him stumbling back. “We’ve come to bleed the pup, for his bark is getting too loud for town.”
Hund rose with a frown on his lips, “I was hunting!” The men drew their weapons, and. Hund reached behind his back, drawing his dagger from its sheath. He took a deep breath, knowing their intentions, and charged!
Through the grass he ran towards Siward, who raised his shield up ready to block. Hund lifted his legs as he jumped up, and his boots collided with the round shield. The blow knocked the larger man back, and sent Hund back into the dewy grass. The moisture of the grass seeped into him as he scrambled back to his feet, only to be met with Sigward. The warrior’s axe flew down towards him, and he barely dodged in time! His knife shot out, catching the larger man in the leg, only to be struck in the head by the hilt of Sigward’s axe.
“I promise! I didn’t know that horse was yours! It was pretty much dead when I found it too...” Hund spoke out as he ran behind the man, the knife sticking into his leg once again.
“WRAGH!! I’LL THROTTLE YOU!” the bald brother shouted out as he charged at Hund, the shield hitting him square in the shoulder and squishing him against the back of Sigward, sending him down to the ground.
Siward’s sword flashed, and Langhund rolled from Sigward’s back, the swing meant for him being dealt into the axe-wielders back, making him cry out in pain and anger. With a pale face, Siward apologised and sought to help his brother up, though before he could bend down Hund ran into him and clambered on top of Siward’s doubled over form, dagger drawn and burying itself into his shoulder a few times, the blade slipping and making contact with his neck and chest. A pained breath escaped the bald man, blood staining his blonde beard red as he fell to his knees, his breath catching a few times in his throat as he felt things get colder and darker. His hand clutched his sword, and he fell into the grass.
Sigward raised up, looking down at his brother who was fumbling in the grass. Red came to his eyes, and he tightened his grip on his axe. He swung his weapons through the air in a wild rage, one of them grazing Hund down the back and piercing the skin as he tried to flee, sprinting for his bow. He stumbled down into the grass, dropping his knife and taking his bow, and not just one but three arrows. As quick as he could, he got up, and knocked the first arrow, pulling back as far as he could before letting his longbow sing.
With a grunt and a growl, the arrow thunked into Sigward’s shoulder. Another arrow quickly followed, burying itself into the thick neck of the criminal. He froze in place, grip tightening on his axe as he stumbled back. The final arrow was sang through the air, and the man collapsed as dead as a butchered pork joint.
With an ache in his back and a sting in his shoulder, Hund dropped his bow with a long ragged breath as he felt the blood on his back. He did not need to move the bodies, for he knew that wolves passed here regularly at night, they would take care of the bodies. He shuffled back to Stangard, where only a week later he heard being shouted around the town;
“The brothers! Siward and Sigward, killed by wolves they were hunting, we found their armour and weapons bloodied up in the field, but their meat had been eaten.”
