His free hand swept toward his waist while his other arm twisted sharply against the grip restraining him, intending to break the hold before delivering a decisive blow. His sword materialized within his grasp almost simultaneously, the blade glinting as it carved a lethal arc toward whoever had wrenched him away from the ravine.
The attack halted scarcely an inch from its target when he noticed the hand gripping his wrist was unmistakably human.
Oliver's gaze rose from the dirt-stained fingers before settling upon the equally familiar face standing before him. The youth he had left outside earlier continued staring at him with vacant eyes, seemingly incapable of understanding why a sword had nearly severed his head from his shoulders. His tangled hair swayed gently beneath the breeze while his expression remained as vacant as ever, although a trace of bewilderment gradually surfaced after noticing the sharpened edge suspended before his face.
