John stepped away from his wife and walked to the side with the warriors. She stood by with the others. Everyone was still in earshot of each other. The move seemed more instinctive, like he subconsciously wanted his former military life to be separate to his current life as a farmer.
"There were eight bandits," he began his debriefing report. "Three carried longswords, two had large crossbows and the others were armed with what looked like sickles. But they weren't farmers, no sir. They moved those things with practiced precision, like nothing I'd ever seen before. By Balthazar, those things aren't weapons, but they sure did use them as such."
He looked to his wife near the cart. "It was luck I was able to fend them off. They came at us no more than a mile outside of the village, after we departed. They were lying in wait. If it wasn't for the gorge, and my horse's adrenaline giving her a burst of speed - none of the bandits were mounted - we would be long dead. When I saw you, I thought they had sent a rider for cavalry backup. I'm glad to see that wasn't the case."