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“Out on his flank, a soldier whipped up his crossbow, cocked it with a jerk on a leather thong, took aim and let fly. The iron-tipped arrow whistled through the air and found its mark, straight between the shoulder blades of the retreating spy. The man dropped like a stone. A short scream became a cough, and the cough a torrent of blood on the sand.” — Nicholas Monsarrat
Out on his flank, a soldier whipped up his crossbow, cocked it with a jerk on a leather thong, took aim and let fly. The iron-tipped arrow whistled through the air and found its mark, straight between the shoulder blades of the retreating spy. The man dropped like a stone. A short scream became a cough, and the cough a torrent of blood on the sand.