Marty Hemming’s eyes opened at a strange sound. He saw a man peering into his tent. He quickly grabbed his gun from in front of him and aimed it at the man.

It was a brisk winter evening and a deep auburn glow welled up behind the mountains in the distance where the sun sank below the horizon. There was a light snow,

He still had time. The assembly would not convene for some hours yet, Ethan reassured himself. Master had given him ample time to complete all of his tasks. “He always does,” Ethan remarked, to himself and no one but the passing countryside.