An arrow punched through Hodge's neck from front to back.
Raoul's heart stopped, then thumped so hard with fear that he thought it might split his chest open.
Hodge dropped his rifle and fell to the ground, gagging.
Raoul went down on his knees beside Hodge, seized the arrow just under its knife-sharp flint head and pulled it through. As the feathered end went through his neck Hodge made a retching sound. His tongue stuck out of his mouth.
Raoul cursed under his breath as he bent over Hodge. This couldn't be happening.
More arrows were flying past them. Raoul's men fired a ragged volley into the woods, and the arrows stopped.
The arrow had cut through an artery and pierced Hodge's windpipe. His breath whistled in and out through the hole in his throat, his blood pumping out of him and soaking into his red beard.
"He is going," said Armand, kneeling beside Raoul.
"Aw no," Hodge managed to murmur.
Raoul felt sick as he watched blood fill Hodge's mouth and pour out of it. Then the big man went limp and his eyes rolled up in his head.