"They cross here-look," Sahila motioned toward the blurred tracks in the snow where a recent snowfall had not yet obscured the passage of a group of men on foot. Sahila, Soterius, and Mikhail had conferred at length before heading out as to the best place for an ambush. Now that they had reached Sahila's recommended spot, Soterius looked around in the dim light. From the flat area where the Margolan strike force was camped, the land became hillier the closer one got to the refugee camps on the Principality side of the border. This trail ran along the edge of the forest, between the trees and a ridge. The trees and the rocky outcropping could provide cover for Soterius's refugee-soldiers. With Mikhail, Soterius was less worried about wolves or other predators in the forest should they have to run for cover.
"It's good," Mikhail said of the ambush point.
"Let's get in position, just like we practiced." The small band of refugee fighters gathered around Soterius. Within minutes his men were in position, careful to cover their tracks in the snow. Soterius smiled. Most of these men had been hunting-or poaching-all their lives, and the same skills that enabled them to feed their families would now make it possible for them to strike back at the soldiers who had taken those lands from them.
"You're sure the soldiers are going to come tonight?" he asked Mikhail under his breath.
"They were getting ready to move when I scouted the camp. Looked like they meant to take prisoners. They had a large box on skis that they could pull behind a horse team."
Soterius frowned. "Then all the better we strike tonight."
They did not have long to wait.
When the moon was high in the sky, the Margolan soldiers made their move. Mikhail was the first to hear them, and he gave the silent signal to the watching fighters. The soldiers moved over the rise and down along the forest's edge. Soterius pursed his lips. Behind the soliders was a man leading two cart horses through the snow, and pulled behind the horses was the large box on skis.
"What the hell is that box for?" Soterius murmured to Mikhail under his breath.
They waited for the target to move into the most vulnerable point along the ridge, where they were fully exposed to both the fighters who waited above them hidden in the brush along the outcropping, and the archers who lurked in the shadows of the forest.
The Margolan soldiers were armed and alert. They could have no other purpose than to strike at the refugee camps, the only cluster of habitation close to the border near this point. The soldiers were already on Principality soil, an act of war in itself. Still, Soterius's heart beat faster when he saw the insignia on those uniforms. He was about to begin the war against his own homeland. He waited to give the signal for attack until the Margolan troops were in the middle of the pass.
