Indrys was nervous following his brief encounter with the specter of death, and therefore walked with his head up and his eyes darting, an arrow knocked and ready to loose on his 'new' bow. Truthfully, it was a simple weapon, not at all ornamented and thus not really his style. But he had to admit that he admired the simple functionality. It worked, and that was enough, for now. He'd procure something more fitting to his station later, once they - what was that? A brief flash of light, several dozen feet away, partially concealed by a rock. His mind screams at him: arrowhead! Ambush! He nudges the dwarf, Glaffin, as he pivots smoothly on a heel, raising the bow to shoulder-height and drawing back the arrow. The string twangs satisfactorily when it's release and the loosed arrow flies towards the ominous glint of the bandit's deadly projectile.