Snippet from WIP

There it is again, out the corner of my eye, slipping behind the trees, just like the other times. I’m not afeart. I have a sword and it is just a shadow. A shadow that seems human-folk like me but the feet are wrong and the hands are wrong and the body is too long and the eyes are too low. This I have understood from seeing it so many times. Not all at once. But I am not afeart. I am a Quester, trained by the monks. I have no fear.