The past days in the outlands had been restless, but not for Arden's party. Restless for the bandits.
Every ambush meant for merchants ended up turning against them, and every attack on a supply route was cut short before it could even start. Greyhold's lifeline to the outside world, once frail, was now guarded by nothing more than the shadow of a single party.
The whispers grew louder with each encounter. "The Outbounds."
Rumors said they could appear from nowhere, as if the land itself pointed them toward their prey.
Even the great clans, who watched from their safe halls, grudgingly acknowledged their name. They had strength, but they lacked daring, and daring was what Arden's party thrived on.
It wasn't long before another ambush was staged, one more caravan brought to a halt along the dirt road.
The merchants huddled together, voices rising in protest as the bandits shouted at them to unload.
