Strohr grasped the handle of his blade with a quiet urgency. Had it not been crafted of perenium, his fingers most certainly would have dug trenches into the grip.

Though Strohr appeared to be alone, his senses protested. There was definitely something else on the hilltop with him. He simply couldn’t see it. At least, not with his eyes.

The tension was palpable. A light breeze floated lazily up the hillside. It gently played amongst the tall grass and swept around the peach tree at the top of the hill, rustling leaves. Strohr observed this with reasoned detachment, and continued to pour his concentration into listening, waiting, and clutching his sword.

A sound. It wasn’t so much a noticeable noise as it was a relatively indistinct disruption in normality. But he caught it. Instinctively, Strohr recalled his teachings, and began to track the occurrence off to his right using nothing but his own controlled mind.

After several seconds, Strohr closed his eyes and swept his blade in a careful, deadly arc.