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The Dark Riders
The two riders came upon the abandoned village under a large full moon. The winter chill had just left the air barely a fortnight ago, but up here that merely meant that summer was starting.
They rode in, somber and quiet, only their horses' hooves making any sound. The beasts were large and muscled like work horses, but these animals were far more agile and swift and much more intelligent. They carried their dark riders confidently through the maze of dilapidated buildings, never missing a step. If you were to watch them walk by it would appear as if the horses knew where to go on their own, as there were no visible signals from the riders.
Both riders were dressed in long cloaks that billowed out behind them like flags of war. The rest of their attire was dark and loosely fitted in layers to keep out the chill. The moon shone brightly upon the metal fastenings of the horse's tackle, and upon the shiny dagger each of them carried at the ready upon their belts. The daggers were made of a blackish metal, but still had a sheen to them as if they were just polished.
The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up over their heads so you could not see their faces. But if they were to look upon you their eyes sparkled like lightning. They rode through the corpses of houses and shops like Death itself come to claim the lost land.
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