Out of the four men, three remained seated on their mounts. Only one of them, the largest and bulkiest, dismounted and stepped towards Bardeck. It soon became pretty obvious that he didn't care much about one's privacy -- he came significantly closer than one normally would when trying to engage in an ordinary conversation. His hands rested on his hips, clenched.

"What do we have here..." he started to murmur from underneath his half-long beard. His eyes started to scrutinize Bardeck, scanning Ferthyr's athletic companion from top to bottom and shoulder to shoulder. Then he turned his head briefly towards the other three and gave a nod. The others subsequently dismounted as well, but didn't follow up.

"Can it be that we've found a deserter ? Hm! What do you say ?" The large individual's voice was harsh and somewhat cold as he addressed Bardeck again. If one looked more closely one could see his hand slowly wander towards the hilt of his weapon. The other three so far did not appear to do the same, but they all were watching very closely.

In the meantime, Ferthyr had found what little chimney there was on top of the hut. His clawed hand clinged around one of its edges as the roof he was standing on had turned out to be somewhat slippery. He couldn't afford to be seen openly, so he kept as low as he could without losing visual contact completely. There was a bad feeling coming up in his stomach...