As Crow trekked through the forest to the knights’ camp, his eyes flitted between the shadows in a cautious search for motion. Even though he had a letter from his father permitting his freedom to roam about the outer villages, he knew it wouldn’t help him if a knight chose to attack without giving him time to explain himself. His hand wandered to his waist, where he had hidden a new set of daggers that he had taken from the haul of weapons he and the other thieves had taken earlier that day. It was the first time in quite a while that he had been armed, and it felt good to know that he could protect himself if need be. Still, he hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to using such measures at all.

Heading further through the trees, Crow glanced back over his shoulder as he felt another pang of longing for the life that he had officially left behind. Part of him wished he could just turn around and run back to the cavern and his companions, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He had to stand firm in his choice to give up thievery for the title of a nobleman. Turning back around, he let out a quiet sigh and watched as his breath left him in a visible vapor in the air. It was a cold night. Despite his reservations about joining the nobles in their camp, he hastened his pace, eager to get to get to someplace where he could warm up.

Eventually, a dim campfire came into view between the trees up ahead, and Crow felt his shoulders relax in relief. He reached into his tunic pocket to retrieve the note his father had given to him, wanting to have it in his hand, so he could present it to the knights if they attempted to apprehend him. As he held it, he looked it over curiously. It was interesting to him how such a small piece of paper could carry so much weight. Giving in to his intrigue, he unraveled the paper and studied the scrawling letters inside. Of course, they were mostly still meaningless to him, but he noticed with some satisfaction that he recognized a few letters like ‘E’ and ‘C.’

Determining that trying to read the foreign looking characters was useless to him, he rolled the letter back up and retied the ribbon that bound it. Looking up again, he saw that he had nearly reached the edge of the nobles’ camp. However, before he stepped past the edge of the tree line, he blinked in surprise as a group of knights rushed towards him from a nearby post. He froze and took a step back, readying himself to run if they pulled weapons on him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he held out his hands to both ward them off and flash the paper he was holding. “I have permission to be here.”

Unfortunately, his warning did him no good as two of the knights caught hold of his wrists and pinned his arms behind his back. He winced at their roughness. “You didn’t let me finish,” he snarled, feeling a twinge of annoyance at their haste to catch him instead of hear him out. “I have permission from the [i]king[/i].”

“Yeah, we heard,” the knight on his left shrugged. “But we were just told not to hurt you. Nobody said we had to let you have another chance to run away.”

Crow rolled his eyes, “I’m not dumb enough to waltz into a camp full of my enemies if I wanted to escape. If I was [i]trying[/i] to run, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Now let go of me, you idiots!”

Suddenly, he caught sight of movement off to his right. Upon turning his head, he recognized two of the knights that were approaching. “Ah, now this makes sense,” he said dryly, narrowing his eyes as he met Layth’s smug—yet also slightly surprised?—gaze.

He turned next to Penelope, “Could you please tell your brother to call off his dogs? I’d prefer not to have my shoulders dislocated tonight if I can avoid it.”