Zorzimril's eyes blazed as she shouted at her men to stop the ranger, she knew it was one of the loathed Dunedain. He was tall and dressed in the colors of the forest, masked and hooded. The wargs snarled on their chains as the horses stomped and whinnied as one of them lost his tether and was stolen by the ranger.
"Stop him!" she screamed as he made his escape. Her teeth ground together and she snatched a bow from beside the fire where it's owner had left it. Though it was not a weapon she was proficient at, not even her long sword would reach him now. Taking aim, she glared at his retreating form then nocked and fired an arrow, watching it graze him. Silently cursing, she fired once more but he was out of range. Throwing down the bow, she stormed over to her horse, mounting him quickly.
"Captain, where are you going?!" Abrazir asked, looking up from the dead man.
"After that rat!" she snapped, preparing to spur the black steed forward but her bannerman grabbed the reins.
"You mustn't leave, send a scout, Zorzi," he said in a low voice, "That's their job, you are needed here."
After a moment she yanked the horse around, shouting "Aakon, get your warg and track that son of a whore, bring him back dead or alive. Preferably alive!"
Zorzimril watched as the warg tamer scrambled to unchain his beast and run after the tracks in the damp ground. Her face was tight, her lips pressed in a thin line. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the fallen scout and got down from her horse, walking over to the corpse. Yanking the blade free, she held it up, studying the distinct Dunedain craftsmanship. "I'll skin him with his own blade."
Keeping the ranger's sword, she stalked back to her tent, Abrazir at her heels, awaiting her orders, "Tell the men to break camp, we make for Garth Agarwen. If Aakon fails I'll feed him to his own beast."
Slamming her fist against the tent pole, it shuddered and threatened to collapse. A fierce rage roiled within her, the entire plan could be fouled if the lone Dunedain got back to his kin and reported their movements. There was no way one man would destroy her mission and her chance at glory and greatness. Already they were down one scout and one horse, and now she had to let another scout and warg trainer go to intercept the ranger that they had let slip through their fingers. As her warriors took apart the camp, she was back on her horse and ready to move soon after.
Glowering blackly at the troops, she waved her hand, "Move out!"
