Strangers in the Shadows

Keiran Ethelwin leaned close into the shadows of the tavern. Just a few short minutes ago he'd been walking up the muddy road headed towards the building when his keen ears had begun to twitch. As he heard faint footfalls coming up the road from the opposite direction, he'd melted into the shadows of the tavern wall. Now he leaned there, intently watching as a stranger leading a horse approached from the distance. Through the rain as the cloaked figure drew closer, Keiran saw what appeared to be a seasoned traveler, and in the darkness his keen eyes began to discern the odd blue and white colors of the figure's clothing. As the traveler stepped into the beam of light streaming from the tavern window, Keiran held his breath. If his face could have been seen at that moment, it would have registered a look akin to relief. Though it may have seemed ironic, the relief was for the traveler, not himself. Keiran was used to being wary at every turn; it came from months of looking over his shoulder in fear of pursuit. However, the fear had long ago disappeared and been replaced by steely courage and grim determination. He was now the hunter, not the hunted. Keiran loosened his grip on the blade in his belt. The traveler passed inside without noticing the still silent figure shrouded in a black cloak. If he had looked, all he would have seen was one glowing peridot-green eye.