It was a while before Lorrel returned with the two horses and the wagon. The hunters all gathered in the main yard while Garinor strained to listen from his distant hiding place. He couldn’t hear everything being said, but he had the impression that everything had essentially been recovered and that now they needed to push hard in order to rendezvous on time.
Everyone scampered into action and Garinor was back into his precarious position from the morning: It was almost time to leave but he still needed to stow away in the wagon.
The hunters brought one horse near the barn and removed its saddle while the other was brushed down with cold water from the trough. The mare was still in her harness, though the wagon had been detached for the time being. A feed bag was brought to the mare, who munched away happily after her forced run that morning. She was well-cared-for by the woman tending her. Watching these people, it was sometimes hard for Garinor to believe they were killers.
Having lost it once that day already, the hunters decided to roll the wagon into the barn until it was time to depart. Garinor’s eyes practically watered at the sight of it. Two of them stood by the entrance to the barn, ensuring no one would enter without permission. That added challenge to Garinor’s plan. They were too close to the ladder for him to descend without being heard.
Outside, the stallion was causing a bit of a ruckus. He had been roused from his stall and pushed into a frantic race, and was now expected to be all calm and quiet. He trotted angrily around the yard and dodged away from everyone who tried to catch him. Loud whinnies and stomping feet excited the mare, who joined in the fray.
Garinor never liked horses more than he did at that moment. He left his alcove and dangled his feet over the ledge. He turned and hung down from his hands, then dropped the rest of the way onto the mountain of hay. He rolled onto the floor with a thud, but the noise was covered nicely by the unhappy equines. Moments later, Garinor shifted himself into position in the wagon, burying himself once more under the supplies.
The next five hours were filled with a fast march and a very bouncy ride. It was harder than before even though he had managed to secure himself a better position within the wagon. All the supplies jumped around and slammed down on him. There were also steep turns in the road that unsettled everything again, pressing down on him painfully. He was careful not to grunt or groan in case any of the hunters were near enough to hear him.
They stopped only twice along the way to give the horse and themselves a break. The first time, Garinor could hear the babbling of a small stream, which of course made him feel thirsty. He still had an apple in his pocket and when they had started up again, he bit into it and sucked on the juice.
The third and final stop of the day was a truly eventful experience. The sun was low in the sky, and it was clear from the conversation that they weren’t only making camp, but they were joining others. This made Garinor extremely nervous and he doubted his wisdom in making this leg of the journey.
There was talking all around him and there was no place for him to escape to. His only hope lay in the hunters simply being blind when they unpacked the tents.
With a great flapping noise, the canvas over the wagon was thrown open. One of the hunters climbed aboard and started tossing down tents to the others. It seemed a couple had been damaged by the thief, but they had enough to manage. Garinor wished they had too many tents, so he could be secure hiding there. But at last, he was discovered.
“Ho! What’s this?” called the laughing man. “Hey, Patch, come see this!”
Lorrel hurried over and looked into the wagon. His mouth dropped open and Garinor thought his eyes would fall out. “You!” He hopped onto the wagon and grabbed Garinor by his shirt. “With us all along, eh?” With a mighty heave, he threw Garinor off the wagon, sending him sprawling on the ground.
The hunter was upon him instantly. He pounced down and reached for the boy again, bringing him up to his feet with one strong hand. His other hand released his sword and drew it swiftly. The cold steel was set against Garinor’s neck.
“Halt!” called a voice that was impossible to refute. “Take no action! Halt!” Huffing, the man rushed ahead and stared in disbelief at the scene.
“It’s him, your highness,” Lorrel said needlessly.
“Yes, yes, I see that.”
“I will fulfill my duty and end his traitorous ideals.”
Garinor closed his eyes and swallowed hard, feeling the sword bite slightly into his flesh.
“You will do no such thing,” said the prince. “I need him alive, at all costs!”
Garinor’s eyes shot open in time to see Lorrel’s birthmarked face blanch. “Y—your highness?”
“No harm to him!” demanded the prince with a tone that held utter malice for the man who dared question him. His eyes never left Garinor’s face.
“As you wish, your highness,” came the reply, but it was almost a minute later before Lorrel could make his sword arm obey. At last the steel came away, but it was not returned to its sheath. Lorrel kept opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but knew that to do so would anger the prince.
The prince put a companionable arm around Garinor and called over his shoulder to Lorrel. “Well done, soldier. You and your squadron are to be rewarded this evening.”
Garinor was too bewildered by what was going on to even hear the shouts and cheers of the hunters he had left behind. Wasn’t the prince trying to kill him?
Garinor was guided inside a lush tent in an overly friendly manner. He couldn’t formulate any questions about what was happening, and very soon, all those fragments were swept away. A succulent meal was brought forth to him, complete with a hearty chalice of delicious wine. He ate alone, but that didn’t matter. It allowed him to focus wholly on devouring as much food as he possibly could before this strange dream suddenly ended.