Crowley was stretched out beside the boy when he woke. He appeared to be sleeping at first, until it became clear that he was bleeding from a headwound. The sword that had been clutched in his hand was now sitting abandoned on the rooftop a few inches away. He lay sprawled in an awkward heap, breathing shallow, yet steady.<br/><br/>The air around them both was thick with smoke. The flickering light of many fires came into view. Adding to the choking atmosphere, a great deal of dust seemed to be coming from the road to the west, where the mountain pass dumped onto the road leading into town. A heap of rubble choked the once open pass, partially obscured by a massive cloud of dust.<br/><br/>The Ranger was at first no where to be seen. Only upon closer inspection, would he be seen lying concealed by shadow in one of the far corners of the small rooftop. He lay still and silent, and would appear to be unconscious were it not for the gleam of his eyes. His bow was clutched in one hand, arrow nocked and ready to be drawn, eyes focused to the west.