It was a chilly autumn day that saw Erwin and his group of revolutionaries sitting within bushes and up trees. They had heard that the Prince of Reaven was being sent to the warfront and knew that this would be their only time to strike. So the ragtag group had sat in wait in Bastiennes' Forest, just out of view of the road. Hardly any of them had had real combat experience, and most were only armed with fire pokers and shovels, but they didn't have to defeat the small army that would be transporting the prince; they just had to kidnap him. Erwin was hidden in a bush that grew wildberries in the springtime, the hood on his cloak pulled low over his eyes. Soon, the sounds of horses reached the small group's ears, and Erwin gave a signal to the few who had bows and arrows. Meanwhile, just before the procession of soldiers passed them, a net was drawn up vertical to the ground before them, effectively trapping them. With the soldiers stopped, the archers let their arrows fly. Two of the three met their marks: one in a soldier's chest and another in the flank of a horse, causing it to rear up. Now, they had to wait for the soldiers to all race into the forest after them. Gripping onto the hilt of his worn, notched sword, Erwin held his breath, a stiff autumn wind blowing through the forest.