The image of the haughty prince won out and Garinor decided the best way to stop the violence was to turn to its source. He knew it would be dangerous to turn and face the hunters and follow them to their leader, but he was certain it was the surest way to put an end to the peril. No other villages and no more of his friends would be injured.
Committing himself to this task, Garinor listened to the sentries as they continued their rounds and walked away. Garinor edged along the woods at a distance, keeping the sentries just within hearing range. He kept his head down and watched his steps, so as not to snap an errant twig and alert them to his presence.
Just as the trees had surrounded the grassy knoll that led to the hamlet, so too did the trees encircle the village. It took some time for them to complete the circuit, but eventually the sentries broke away from their skulking steps and shook their heads in defeat. Somehow their target had escaped.
Garinor caught snatches of conversation on the charred wind. They scolded each other about losing the prey and taunted each other with the forms of torture their master might berate them with. This seemed a particularly fun game for them, and they invented numerous cruel punishments that Garinor couldn’t even believe existed. And as the men broke into laughter after one such exchange, insisting they would be turned into soup and eaten at sunset for a week, Garinor tuned them out at last.
The sentries didn’t seem hard-pressed to rejoin their companions, but they continued to make steady progress toward a definite destination. They never wavered from their route for long, stopping occasionally to scout around or to venture off to examine something that interested them. They seemed like close friends off on a camping trip, not hired hunters seeking to kill him.
After two hours of lurking through the woods, they finally reached a clearing. This worried Garinor, for there would be no place left for him to hide. He didn’t know how he would shadow the sentries back to their master.
The clearing was not deserted, however. A series of tents had been expertly erected and in the center was a warm campfire, which would be needed as the day faded into evening. Garinor heard cheers of greeting for the sentries who had returned and then peals of laughter as the game of imagining absurd tortures was given new life within the larger group.
He waited in the distance for a few moments more but realized other sentries had to be out looking for him. If he remained still and focused on the camp for too long, one of them might come up from behind him and all would be lost.
Looking over his shoulder to ensure it wasn’t happening already, Garinor steadied his nerves. He needed to break into the camp somehow, claim some food and drink, and hide himself away until either their leader returned or until they sought him out. He wouldn’t be able to break in until night fell in earnest and many of them had fallen asleep.
Some of the trees nearby had thick limbs and Garinor decided his best course of action would be to climb and wait. As always, he walked quietly, his eyes and head casting about for movement. Then his hands gripped scratchy bark and he hoisted himself up, limb by limb, until he was several yards above the ground and nested into a cluster of branches. In the darkening light, he was unlikely to be seen there.
The tree swayed gently in a breeze. The air was tinged with the distant scent of burned wood and that kept Garinor’s thoughts dark and solemn. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and slammed his eyes closed, as if blotting out his vision would keep his thoughts at bay.
He didn’t know he had fallen asleep until he woke up with a start. The night was pitch dark except for a small fire kept alive in the center of the nearby enemy camp. The tree still swayed, though the air didn’t carry the scent of fire any longer. Still, something had jolted him awake.
It was a few moments before it happened again. In the stillness of the night, there was a sudden thud below him. He squinted and tried to see, but it was difficult in the darkness. A few minutes later the sound echoed again.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Garinor could faintly see a man down below walking toward a tree and pulling something out of it, walking back, raising his arms awkwardly, and a thud sounding below. Then the whole process repeated. Eventually Garinor realized what was happening. The man on watch for the night was practicing with his bow in the darkness.
One mystery solved, Garinor’s mind turned toward another one: How was he going to grab some food? He had no choice but to climb down and sneak into the camp. Only the one man on duty was moving, as far as Garinor could tell. Even though that gave him a sense of comfort, climbing down a tall, unfamiliar tree in the dark without making noise was stressful.
Hand under hand Garinor went. He kept looking around trying to make sure he wasn’t being watched. He hoped he would somehow see danger before it was too late. His ears remained trained on the sound of the guard’s bow and arrow. As long as the rhythmic thud kept echoing up at him, he felt relatively safe.
With a great internal sigh, Garinor’s feet touched the ground. He waited to make sure the arrow thudded into the tree again, then he crept toward the campsite.
Approaching one of the tents, Garinor heard the comforting rumble of someone snoring inside. He paced around the tent and kept his eyes sharp, looking for some remnant of food or water. Three, four, five tents he passed before he finally found something worthwhile. Between the fifth and sixth tent was a pile of discarded food. Most of it was useless to him, for the sentries had picked most of the bones clean, but some bits of meat remained. Garinor let his need of food win out over his discomfort at this sort of meal, and he reached into the pile and found a few cold morsels for himself.
After the grisly meal, he skulked around a little further until he found a leather pouch on the ground. It was tied up at the top and sat on its own as if it was filled with liquid. However, the pouch was beyond the safe back line of tents in the light of the small campfire. On the other side of the fire, Garinor could now clearly see the bored guard firing his bow into the tree.