sicut et nos dimisimus debitoribus nostris
As we forgive those who trespass against us
It rained cats and dogs. For more than three days now. He stumped through the mud, farther to the North, on an unhitched street.
At the mountainside he spotted a post station. He would pass the night there and leave the next morning before sunrise.
The horses in the barn were slightly restive. Who knew why? Maybe a predator wasn't too far away...
He was happy to get out of the rain as he entered the main building of the station.
The lamps were dull and didn't really fill the room with lots of light, murmured words were heard.
A man in an uniform came to him, asking what he would want.
He answered, put down his baggage and sat down on the floor next to the fireplace. It was damn cold out there.
As he opened his eyes again, it had darkened completely. Most of the lamps were dead.
But something wasn't right. He felt like deer in front of a puma's nose. But he couldn't tell where the feeling of danger was coming from.
Outside of the house? In the same room? He looked around without moving too much. The dull shine of the lamps poorly enlightened the wooden floor boards.
Silhouettes of other people were nothing but shadows. Everything was calm. Slowly he shifted his weight to take another position.
One hand reached for the bag with the swords. Damnit, bastard, where are you?
There was a movement in front of the window. Suddenly his attention was focused on the noises and motions of the other side of the wall.
I have to get outta here. He took his swords and left the building as quiet as possible.
The rain had stopped. Somewhere water was dropping from roofs in a puddle or a barrel.
The wind was blowing in the trees. He fit into the shadows. He was a hunter, he knew the game of darkness and silence.
He was looking for the shape that had caused the movement at the window. He dived into the shades of the main building, his hair covered by a black bandana, and so was his presence.
Then again...! From the corner of his eyes he saw the shape again. It moved very fast.
Too fast for a normal person. But he knew that no normal person was hunting him.
As he reached the edge of the building, he hesitated. There was a young tree in front of him whose branches played with the wind and caused the shadows to fall through one of the windows of the main building.
Have I been wrong? But what about the feeling of being watched?
"Stir once and you're dead." Cold metal met his throat. He tightened the grip around his swords.
"Don't even think about it." The voice was cold as ice. But the breath at his throat was hot. Damn! Slowly, he lowered the swords. Calm down. Wait.
"Drop them."
He did as he was told. The other one moved closer.