"There's a whistle, then hooting from the bushes. Bandits! A dozen and a half ragged, filthy people with rotte

"There's a whistle, then hooting from the bushes. Bandits! A dozen and a half ragged, filthy people with rotten teeth and sunken eyes — not much worse than us, now — rise from the bushes, their hair and clothes a mess... I raise my spear and scream threateningly, which usually scares off the weaker ones, but not these bandits. They get close, I swing, I stumble..."