The bridges in Thunder River are excellent choke points to intercept foes or prey. This night, I waited for a fight. As the moon rose a horseman appeared and galloped across the bridge towards me.
His lack of regard for his own safety momentarily stunned me. This region is dangerous, and to gallop around, alone, into the face of a potential waiting enemy seemed foolhardy. I shook my head and watched him gallop across the bridge crouched low over his horse. Why I did not act and kill him I cannot say. I watched him fly past. I was looking for a more worthy opponent and while chopping a man from his horse is a simple, useful and often deadly tactic, I was looking for a fight.
I waited longer. The moon rose further and the only sound was the roar of the cascade below me. Such times are helpful to contemplate deeper matters. Suddenly there was a noise behind me. I pulled my sword and whirled towards the source.
The rider had returned. He was galloping straight for the bridge, once again seemingly oblivious to any danger. This was too much for me. This fool would be taught just how dangerous Thunder River was. I swung quickly. The horse reared and jumped and flew down the bridge.
In a blink I had traversed the growing distance between us and swung again. In a state of blind panic, the rider spurred his horse and leapt over the rope railing and plunged into the river below and over the cascades. I watched for a moment and considered the drop. Tiny flames crackled and hissed on the damp wooden bridge.
It is a very long swim from so far down Thunder River. I returned to my contemplations. The demon within murmured restlessly.
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