Zero

The Snake stood over the unconscious form of the lawman. He knelt over and took the sword, coins, and dagger from the limp form. The sword was plain iron, but it was better than nothing. He took an oiled cloak from the hook near the door and found some hard rolls and cheese along with a full waterskin in one of the cupboards, careful to keep quiet. There was some monstrous snoring coming from the room next door. He paused for a moment, contemplating giving the man a hit or two to compensate for the manhandling earlier.
“Stay calm,” he murmured. It was more important for him to escape while the storm still raged.
He slipped out the door and the force of the gale outside nearly knocked him to the ground. He pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and walked with his head bent.
The wind was strong and the air chill but he had been through much worse. He had no idea of his location but they hadn’t travelled for long, so he assumed he was somewhere just outside of town. He moved quickly, light-footed and sure despite the harsh weather. He wished to make as much distance between himself and the Lawmen before the storm passed and the Agents arrived. For all her knew, they were already on their way. They seemed to turn up almost inexplicably.
His clothing was thin and the snow soaked through the fabric, right down to the skin. He was tall and lean, ideal for slinking through the shadows and feats of acrobatics but the cold still got to him for he had no fat on his body. He had been through harsh periods with little sustenance and therefore had learned to adapt to meagre rations of food.
His ribs ached from being kicked viciously by the big lawman. His pride demanded revenge but his common sense told him to leave it be. That could be the difference from being caught and slipping away. After all, he had been caught for that very reason. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone.
He squinted ahead in the distance and wished the storm would clear enough for him to know which direction to walk in. The snow was inches thick, and his booted feet hadn’t made contact with the ground, only stepping in snow.
All he knew was that anywhere was better than being with the Agents. His thoughts travelled briefly to the three lawmen still inside, at the mercy of the Agents when they arrived. But he should have known better than to be concerned about people he didn’t know. It was not his problem what happened to the three men.

It took a while for Tyrol to come around. Once he regained consciousness he found himself looking into the eyes of Stoyan.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” he asked groggily.
“Slipped outta here like the snake he is,” the lawmen replied with a shake of his head.
“Where’s Argygle?”
“Still passed out in the other room.”
Tyrol gingerly touched the back of his head and pulled himself to his feet. His head exploded in pain at the movement but he managed not to make a sound about it.
“How long was I out?” he said instead, wincing.
Stoyan took a swig from his waterskin. “I’m not all that certain. All I know is that I woke up and realise you hadn’t come to get me for watch. You musta been unconscious for some time, though. The storm’s passed and I’m guessin’ the Agents should be here soon. They’re not gonna be too happy when they find he’s escaped.”
Tyrol sank into a chair. How had the prisoner escaped? They had searched him thoroughly for weapons, and the ropes were bound tight. He would have had to have a dagger the size of a needle for it to escape their notice.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Stoyan asked, watching his friend.
Just as he spoke, there was a pounding at the door. Stoyan and Tyrol exchanged glances. They were here.