Archer watched as the creature staggered, its hollow moan cut short as it crumpled to the ground, lifeless once more. An expression of approval crossed his features as her gaze swept the road for the next target, her bow ready.
''Good shot beautiful,'' he complemented her.
Maeve turned to him, beaming. ''Thank you, love, now to kill some more,'' she replied.
As he stood motionless, his weary eyes roamed across the desolate landscape, cloaked in an oppressive darkness that seemed to swallow all traces of hope. A thick, swirling fog draped itself over the distant horizon, obscuring the forest.
The air was chilly, carrying a faint, acrid scent of decay that clung to his senses. Scattered across the frost-covered ground lay countless bodies, their twisted forms half-hidden in the gloom.
