Merlin knows they are outnumbered. The Southrons are fast approaching them and within Minuten they’ll be surrounded for sure. If they are not careful, it will take them just mere Sekunden to round them up. Merlin knows he has to do something but the idea which keeps tapping his mind requires him to get rid of the others. Others shouldn’t be a problem. Arthur is a big concern now. Merlin bites his lip and skips a log as he leads the group through the forest. Behind him, Arthur follows, still clutching his wounded rib, the injury sustained as they fled from Camelot...
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