Garinor reached the old man’s cabin and was ready to knock on the door like it was normal, regular day. But the events of his morning kept him alert and he hesitated, then backed away, circling cautiously around the wooden hut.
He didn’t know if it was instinct or a general growing sense of mistrust, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to lock himself inside the small cabin without knowing if other sentries were around.
Many bushes grew nearby and it was easy to crawl on hands and knees to remain hidden. He could also peer through many of the shrubs and see behind them. He had circled around the old man’s home halfway before he saw something that alerted him. The sight of boots.
Someone stood two rows away from him. Garinor stopped and tried to determine if he had been spotted, but the boots weren’t moving. Moreover, they were turned away from him. As quietly as possible, Garinor continued crawling along, wondering who the person was, but he thought he knew. If the hunters were so determined to catch them, they would post sentries all over the place.
The boots moved. They turned toward the left and then started walking. Garinor breathed relief, for they were heading toward the hut and not toward him. He continued to crawl onward until he came to the old man’s garden. Sight of any kind of food made Garinor feel pangs of hunger again. He grabbed a tomato from a vine, rubbed it briefly against his borrowed shirt and then downed it in three hearty bites. Not exactly his choice of meal, but he didn’t have much else.
He pocketed a few other tomatoes, tore off some leaves of lettuce, and decided not to press his luck any further. He glanced back and saw the booted man briefly peering into the old man’s shack, then turning away to continue his patrol. He paced about like his was the most important job in the entire world, and it was sort of funny to Garinor that the man was oblivious to his target just several yards away.
Garinor continued crawling along the garden until it ended. There he would need a short sprint to reach the cover of the woods. He turned his head about and waited until the patrolman spun on his heel and paced away. Then Garinor made his move. Keeping low and trying to move quietly, he raced off into the distance, hoping his footfalls wouldn’t be heard. He dove into the line of trees and whipped around to see if the man had noticed. At that moment, the rogue was peering into the old man’s hut again.
Garinor was safe.