Martin was startled as she climbed up his leg and then up, under his tunic, to his shoulder. It was a struggle not to swat her, despite knowing who she was. Still, Abelina was soon safe on his shoulder. He moved quietly out of town, keeping to the shadows. The local baron had stationed four roaming guards at his village, to maintain order. Tonight, all four were out. It was a real struggle not to get caught.

On the outskirts of town, he pasted the last building, a public house. Men were still inside drinking and singing, despite the late hour. One came outside to relieve himself, against the side of the pub. Martin found it disgusting, but held his breath and waited until the man went back inside, before passing. Soon he was crossing the bridge over the river.

The bridge was an old stone bridge, wide enough for a wagon. Martin was halfway across, when someone shouted, in the night. It was a guard, crossing the bridge from the other side. "You there, Martin the blacksmith's apprentice, Martin charged the guard, lifting his staff above his head, as the guard drew his steel broadsword.