Thoren walked slowly toward the exit, the broken window. Just then, he noticed a figure also approaching the window from the other side.
He halted in his tracks and stared intently at the figure for a long moment. After a second, he exhaled deeply through his nose and continued moving forward.
The sound of his boots echoed on the ancient wooden floor, loud enough for the figure outside to hear clearly.
And truly, the figure heard the incoming footsteps.
Creasing his brow, the figure raised his head and stared at the window, narrowing his eyes as he tried to see deep into the oppressive darkness.
Slowly, he reached out for the hilt of his weapon, his knuckles turning white.
"Who is there?" he asked, taking a couple of cautious steps backward.
The tension rose slowly, thick and suffocating.
He held his breath and looked around wildly, ready to flee if the situation turned for the worst.
"Who is there?" he shouted one more time, his voice cracking with fear.
