A Short Victory
The clammy wind blew through the trees, with Ciela's feet firmly rooted on the rocky mountain beside the fortress, her black longbow tapping the ground as she stretched her fingertips, squeezing her palms to avoid muscle cramps.
"Are you ready?" Ciela's soft voice was like a whisper as she communicated with the three women standing on the ledge beneath her, with shields along with their usual weapons. At her back was a group of twenty elves with green and silver longbows, all standing in a tight formation.
"All archers are ready at your command, princess!"
She nodded, her eyes narrowed, gazing at the outpost currently engaged in battle, the figure of elves in damaged armour fighting off twisted creatures entering Ciela's eyes.