The freezing wind howled across the muddy bank as the stallion charged once more, hooves tearing fresh gouges into earth already churned to ruin. The remaining men had scrambled to their feet, gripping their weapons with white knuckled desperation as they braced for the impact bearing down on them.
It served them precious little. Hundreds of pounds of pure muscle thundered toward them like an avalanche given four legs and a foul temper. The bandits were smart enough to hurl themselves clear of Chestnut's iron shod hooves, diving into the grass with all the grace of men who valued their skulls intact.
Unfortunately for them, they were not smart enough to account for the knight riding above the beast, longsword swinging low and hungry.
Chestnut wove between two of the men, their chainmail clinking loud and useless as they dove for the safety of the weeds.
Five, before. Now four.
