By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 33

Torches lit up the road where rough-looking sentries stood guard. Their cold eyes barely spared me a glance before watching the forest in case the group was being followed. Once we entered the camp, most of the men fanned out and dispersed.

No commands were issued, which only made it more unnerving. The warrior kept going, followed by the horse I was on and the other watchdog riding behind us. It was definitely clear who was in charge and which two were stuck on babysitting duty.

The warrior dismounted beside a huge pavilion. "Keep an eye on her until we get things sorted out."

"Yes, sir."

He guided his horse between the tents, eventually coming to a stop by a small one. I subtly eyed up the twenty or so tents between me and the edge of the camp.

The man dismounted and told me. "Get down."

I slid off the horse as another man took the reins, leading it away. My other follower also relinquished his horse, both of which were tethered to a post nearby. He kept the miniature crossbow, which was still loaded.

The primary watchdog, the one who'd ridden behind me, jerked his chin at a small tent. "Latrine is in there. Use it."

From the tales I'd heard, hostage takers rarely let their captives have a bathroom break unsupervised, so this was the last thing I expected.

When I hesitated, he gave me a light push in that direction. "Use the latrine. Else you'll need to use it soon, and I don't need you trying to come up with escape plans between now and then."

That made more sense. I still wasn't entirely sure if I was stumbling into a second trap, and I warily entered the small tent, promptly covering my nose. I wasn't sure which man had used this pit last, but judging by the stench, he probably needed medical attention.

Still, it was a latrine trench, and I wasn't sure when my two watchdogs might let me have another unsupervised break. I quickly made use of the pit and didn't even contemplate lingering. Not with the smell in here. Perhaps there'd been a reason they chose to send me into this one.

The two men were waiting semi-patiently outside, and the one I'd ridden with waved me over. There really weren't many options in the middle of a war camp teeming with soldiers, so I cautiously approached. Once I was closer, he turned and began walking away. I glanced at the second man, who jerked his chin at him. I followed the first man while the other one trailed behind.

We only went a few tents over before he opened a tent flap. "Get in. I don't need that werewolf skulking around and staring at us or you trying to spot a way to escape."

This man seemed rather fond of logic, and I didn't feel like being tossed inside, so I ducked through the tent flap. It was plainly furnished with just a handful of seat cushions. I picked one in the far corner as the two men also came in, sitting on either side of the tent flap and placing a lantern between them.

I regarded them, but even though their eyes often flickered over to me, they seemed disinterested in my presence now that I had no easy way to escape. The man I'd ridden with – the same one who'd done all the talking – watched me absently, frequently turning his head if someone walked by the tent, tracking their movements. The other one pulled out a belt knife and began sharpening it.

Time passed slowly, and my unease soon took on a bored undertone. I'd never sat and done absolutely nothing before. Even if my hands were idle, my mind was always at work, but there were no ideas to work with. I was missing vital information that prevented me from coming up with any plans.

These men weren't in charge, and there was no point in trying to sway their opinions, but they might provide some information. They did have the notorious griffin symbols on their shirt sleeves, and I'd never heard a good story about such people, so I'd have to go about this very carefully...