Gerald paused to get an idea of what was exactly happening. The barbarism of the attackers dressed in brown clothes was enough for him to know that they were robbers.
He taught the chieftain fighting with all the velour, and even in his early fifties, he was fierce and brave. Gerald wondered how he would have been in his hay days?!
But then his attention shifted to the other side, where the robbers were overpowering the men, who were safeguarding their animals.
Gerald sprinted in that way without a second thought. He bent down near a dead man from the clan and picked up his sword.
His green eyes searched for a horse, and he found one not far from where he was. He began picking up the stones on his way, as much as he could.
Storing them inside his shirt, hissing as their hotness burned his skin, he got onto the horse. Pulling the reigns, he directed the animal to where the defence around the clan's animals, their treasure was wearing thin.
