He picked up his weapon. An underhanded plan.
And he stood there. The war had finally begun, and no way was he going to give in.

He stood silent at the corner. His view of what was coming was obstucted by the pillar beside him. An imposing figure, but harmless. Or so he thought. He listened intently. Nothing. He lifted one foot off the ground and just as he was about to take a step forward, he hesitated. He thought. What if. . .

No. He relaxed his foot and set it back down on the ground again.
Listen once more.
Still nothing.

Finally convinced, he took a brave step forward, and followed up with a couple of quick footsteps. The pilar was no longer blocking him, and he was now vulnerable to the attacks.

An arrow. It whizzed through the air, splitting the invisible sheet into half. A trail of deadly emptiness. It lodged itself into his chest, only a few centimetres away from his heart. He cried out in pain, and instinct told him to remove that deadly projectile from himself. He raised a trembling arm, grabbed the arrow and with one swift movement, extracted it out from his chest. Another surge of pain.
But it was not over.
It never is.