The riders sat with their bows drawn, arrows aimed loosely at the group, their mounts snorting and pawing at the dirt.
Ren stood there non threateningly, his hands still half raised, and his posture calm.
The lead rider narrowed his eyes, his face half-covered by a bandana. "Where did you come from, strangers?"
"Rainhold." Ren answered.
The riders exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves.
"That city's gone." One of the riders finally said aloud, suspicion on his face. "Wiped off the face of the earth. Ain't nothing but scorched stone and cinders left."
"We survived." Ren said simply. "Barely."
More skeptical stares. One of the men shifted in his saddle, leaning forward with a sneer. "No one survives a blast like that. Not without divine favor." Then, his voice dropped. "Or something worse."
Ren let the accusation slide off him like dust. "Then it's good fortune the divine were on our side." He turned slightly, gesturing toward Lilith beside him. "We're Chosen."
