Fox Hunt; Chapter 7

I meander down the street, forcing myself to keep my steps calm and unhurried. The town is slowly coming to life; shopkeepers are setting up and others make their way to their morning destination. No one is rushing about though; no one was in a hurry. They would certainly take note of a stranger rushing through their calm.

Though my pace is slow and unbothered, I remain on high alert. My eyes scan about, watchful for militiamen, no more than a visitor taking in the sights to those on the street. Ears listening for any sounds that disrupt the flow of the morning. I had to be sure no one was looking for me.

The few militiamen I do pass don't spare me a second glance. They hardly even glance at me. Not that I give them reason to. I'm no more than a passing nobody, crossing the street to look at something that's caught my eye. It's been four days, and they don't seem to care, but I can't let my guard down.

The plan is just to pass through, only staying long enough to get a map, supplies, and directions. Yet, when I pass the baker's shop, I can't help but be lured in by the smell of freshly baked bread. It smells perfectly delectable. I know I should be saving my money, but I can't help it. As I pull bites off the large roll to stuff in my mouth as I walk down the street, the small voice berating my decision grows quiet, also contented by the warm bread. I also now had directions to the best map maker in the area.

I pause as I turn down the street, quickly scanning for any militiamen, no more than a stranger getting their bearings, taking in the town square. My plan is to just pass by. Follow the path around the town square to the eastern street. The mapmaker would be the third shop on the left. Yet I found myself stopping at what I had assumed was a bulletin board. I mean, I suppose it is technically a type of bulletin board, but this one is filled with wanted posters, missing person papers, and all sorts of other various 'be on the lookout' notices. Most of the papers are marked with the militia seal.

Well, that certainly explained why this town in the middle of nowhere was doing so well. It served as a watering hole for bounty hunters. It wasn't just militia eyes I had to worry about here.

My eyes quickly begin to move over each paper, taking in names and faces, searching for my own. My initial reaction at not finding mine is a relief, but only for a moment. Maybe that was a part of the plan. Make it look like they weren't looking for me in hopes I'd drop my guard, make it easier to find and catch me. Then again. . . maybe they weren't looking for me?

Maybe I had played my part so well, they hadn't even given me a second thought. Maybe they didn't wait long enough to have to worry about the kettle. Maybe they never came after me. Maybe they just assumed I heard fighting, fled on my own, and assumed I was lost or dead when I hadn't shown up in the following days. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Was it possible? Did I take that risk? A night in an actual bed would be nice. It would also give me the chance to change my clothes, give what I had been wearing since fleeing a wash. An actual meal, a bath, clean clothes, and a restful night in an actual bed. I'd been on the move for four days. I know my feet would appreciate sitting for a bit.

"I'm not one to judge," a voice muses, startling me from my thoughts, "But you seem a bit small to be a bounty hunter."

I look to find a man leaning casually against the board's beam. Everything about him is easy and relaxed: his tone, his gray eyes, his smile; yet I find myself on edge. He's dressed in an all-black uniform, including his jacket and boots. I don't need to look at the insignia on his jacket to know he's not standard militia, but I look anyway. Sure enough, it's a silver circle with a gold compass rose within it. He's a ranger. I still needed to be on guard though.

There's nothing to indicate that he's ready to act, no sign of recognition or weariness. He's just making conversation with a stranger. No. He had pointed out how small I was. He must also think I'm younger than I am. He thought I was just some young girl wandering about alone.

I smile at him, letting out a small laugh. "A little young, too."

He nods, eyes flicking about the town square behind me, smile fading. "But not too young to travel alone?" I can hear the disapproval in his voice.

"My da wanted to send my brother with me, but I convinced him to let me go alone. Besides, my aunt is expecting me. If I'm not there by tomorrow evening, she's sending my cousins to find me." The lie comes easily, but I'm sure it's what I need to keep his suspicion down. He saw a young girl traveling alone and was concerned about her safety. This town was crawling with bounty hunters. "I just thought it'd be a good idea to know what faces I should be staying away from." Let him know that I wasn't completely unprepared for solo traveling. Get his guard back down.

That calm smile returns. "It's not just who's on the board you need to watch out for."

I watch him for a second, feigning slight confusion before letting worry slip through my mask, taking a small, cautious step back. At my reaction, he's also quick to take a step back, to give me more distance. He holds up his hands, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, didn't mean to alarm you." Slowly, he lowers his hands. "Not to pry, but how much further do you have to travel?"

"The next town over." As the lie slips out, I realize that I have no idea how far away the next town was, and it wasn't a complete lie. Hopefully, there was a town I could be in by tomorrow evening, and it wasn't the one I was heading for.

He considers my answer before nodding. "If you're planning to spend the night in town, I could get you a room in the barracks," he offers. "It'll be cleaner and safer than most places in town."

I can feel my heart slowly speeding up, preparing for fight or flight. Was it possible I hadn't been the only one playing off reactions this whole time? How could I get out of this? A girl traveling alone staying in a town full of bounty hunters would be a fool to turn down a room at the militia barracks. For all I knew, this was a trap they were hoping I'd walk into. Or it could become one. I couldn't let my guard down until I was safely in Sorchal.

I open my mouth, preparing to lie and say I was going to be staying with a family friend, hoping he wouldn't question why I didn't mention it sooner when his wrist comm beeps. He scowls as he looks down at his wrist comm. Whatever it is, he's not happy with it.

Sighing deeply, he runs a hand through his dark blond hair. He stands there for a moment, hand in his hair, glaring off into the distance, muttering something under his breath. Then just like that, his smile is back, eyes on me again. "I'm afraid I have to run, but I do have to stop by the barracks. I can take you there now and make sure you get set up."

A better lie comes to mind. "I actually promised my aunt I'd pick something up for her while I was here." I chew at my lip, tilting my head down. Let it look like I knew I was doing something I had been told not to. "And I was hoping to look around a bit."

The man studies me for a moment before chuckling. "Well, I'll make sure there's a room ready if you want it. Just tell them Raphael sent you."

He gives me a wave, turning to walk back the way I had come from. I watch him for a moment before turning away. I turn over the conversation in my mind. Were they not looking for me or was this a part of some elaborate ruse?

There is one thing I know for sure: I wouldn't be staying here longer than I needed to.