The Training of a Dream Warrior

Leo inched closer in the darkness. He could see the light of the fire up a head. He stilled himself to listen for any indication that his approach had been noticed. The sparks of the fire where flying high into the forested night sky. He guessed it was probably caused by the witches who were beating at the edges of the fire and stirring the logs again. It wasn’t the usual stoking of a fire typically done around a campfire. The witches Leo had seen before would purposely fan and beat at the fire to cause a great flurry of sparks to follow the smoke in its ascent high into the black sky.
There were no stars to be seen this night.
The clouds were full of moisture though and looked like they might at any moment send down another drenching. The most recent downpour had soaked the ground and was soaking Leo’s shirt as he crawled on his belly to get closer to the fire. The bed of pine needles was soft and comfortable normally, but tonight they made him shiver from the cold soaking.
He crept closer; as he did his sheath that held his Bowie knife caught on a root. He kept his eyes peering forward, but reached back with his left hand to feel his way to free up his knife.  
It would not do to lose that now. He was determined to end the life of the Nephi tonight. If his arrows missed he had determined he would plunge his faithful Bowie deep into its neck.
He hoped his shots would be true though. He knew that once he was in position, he could release three to four arrows towards his nemesis before he knew they were on their way towards his heart.
That’s if his enemy was where he expected him to be.
He had spent too many years in practice to let him get away now.
Leo eased his way closer over the soggy needles.
He guessed he was about fifty yards away. It was a perfect distance. If the Nephi was seated, as he expected he would be, Leo could get at least three arrows off before the first one had time to reach its mark.
His personal bowyer and he had together crafted a long bow of extraordinary strength. Leo’s strength training enabled him to pull the mighty bow with ease.
His years spent at speed archery had seen him grow to master the skill. He had risen to the top of his class.
His mastery of the bow was why he had been chosen to hunt the Nephi now.
Soundlessly he eased himself up beside the trunk of the dual pines that stood before him. In their younger years the two pines had started out as individual saplings, but long after they had merged their trunks and bark and now grew as Siamese twins merged at the hip. Where the trunks of the trees began to split apart was about five feet off the ground. This would prove to be a perfect blind and launch point for Leo to loose his arrows toward their mark.
Leo slid his face along the bark of the tree to catch a glimpse of things at the split of the two trees. The sweet smell of pine brought back fond memories of his youth. He loved the sweet aromas of the forest. From the distinctive scents of the wild animals to the collection of flowers and sages and finally the gratifying smell of the end of day fire with the day’s hunt roasting on the spit; it was all a tapestry of pleasure that Leo had come to enjoy in his years of training.  
It was that training that had brought him here now.
Three shots and maybe four sent towards the heart of the Nephi. It would bring him down, but he would then have to escape the rage of the lion horses.
His escape wasn’t certain, but he was confident in his skills at stealth in the forest. He would trust what his master had taught him to bring him safely home at sunrise tomorrow.
He tested his position and steadied his stance. He placed his right hand against the hollow between the trees and pushed himself back quietly. With his feet shoulder length apart, his right foot pointed directly towards the Nephi who was seated on the stump as Leo had hoped.
Leo had been to this place and had spied out this evening ritual before.
The lion horses would pace about the Nephi and bow and prance about him tirelessly for hours. The fire would burn bright and long while this ceremony went on. The men dressed in black with their somber faces would meekly, but quickly work to keep the fire going. They kept their heads down and never looked at the Nephi or the lion horses.
Two women wearing long red robes continuously beat on the fire with long handled brooms. They reminded Leo of witches. He half expected them to slip their brooms between their legs and fly off into the night. They wore gold trimmed sashes about their necks. Chicken bones hung from the fringe on the sashes.
Leo couldn’t see all this from the fifty yards away where he was now, but he had been closer several times. He used those times to test his skills of stealth and to get a better look at the pattern of these now nightly rituals.
Leo knew that once they had gone to the every night pattern it would not be long that they would choose to strike the village just a mile from here.
He must not fail. Too much was at risk in the village downstream.
It’s why he had trained so zealously. It’s why he was chosen. It’s why he was here this night to stop what the Nephi and his lion horses had intended to do once they set upon that village.