[Daryl is in camouflage-- sort of. He's patched his clothes over with enough animal skins that he tends to blend in with the scenery. He has a crossbow, made and weighed carefully by hand, trained on their targets.]
[Three Ceta soldiers mill into a snowy clearing, communicating in smoky puffs of breath. They have a village boy with them, one of the hillfolk. Daryl doesn't know him, but he looks familiar. He might have run errands for the Barrayaran camp, at one time or another.]
[Daryl has been hanging back so far because it's the smart thing to do, regardless of his so-called superior officer's instruction. As one of the Ceta soldiers raises his hand to strike the boy, Daryl's not so sure. He trains his bow on the Ceta's head, taking aim.]
recon.
[Three Ceta soldiers mill into a snowy clearing, communicating in smoky puffs of breath. They have a village boy with them, one of the hillfolk. Daryl doesn't know him, but he looks familiar. He might have run errands for the Barrayaran camp, at one time or another.]
[Daryl has been hanging back so far because it's the smart thing to do, regardless of his so-called superior officer's instruction. As one of the Ceta soldiers raises his hand to strike the boy, Daryl's not so sure. He trains his bow on the Ceta's head, taking aim.]