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Warren’s words hit Durbar like a blow to the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs. He stood, arms hanging at his sides, one hand loosely gripping his bow. He could not sort out what to say to the prince’s accusations.
He stammered a bit before Warren threw the knockout blow, “Nothing to say? You must be guilty then. I knew you couldn’t be trusted. A dirty woodsman? A bandit for certain. I’ll make sure you can’t warn your bandit friends that we are here to destroy.” Warren sheathed his sword and then stormed back to the village. Durbar stood for several long minutes searching for any sense to Warren’s barrage of verbal assaults. The woodsman could not sort out anything to comfort him so he returned to his crouch and continued to observe the camp.