The boy, on the other hand, had nothing by way of weapons. He clutched a medium-sized rock in one hand that would probably just end up crushed to powder after even one blow against their armour, and he had a dog.

If he was honest, which he wasn't but let's pretend, he'd admit that the dog was going to be doing most of the work.

"How are we meant to do that?" He demanded, under his breath. He really didn't like the look of the camp guards. "Why can't someone else do it?"