Hunted
   A tall, agile man came into the inn. The other guests could see his dirty, sweaty clothes. It was clear to them that he had been traveling fast and for a long time. He went up to the innkeeper, introduced himself as Quentin Halford and ordered a meal and a room. He settled at a table and started eating like a starving dog. When he had satisfied his hunger, he started looking at the other guests almost as though he expected to be recognized by some of them. After a little while he seemed to relax and ordered a beer.
   How good life had been before. Everything had been so easy. There had been plenty of rich people with full money pouches to empty. He had gotten by without ever bothering anybody unnecessarily and staying out of serious trouble. All that had changed when he heard of the treasures of one of the merchant families of the mighty city of Seafront. The good and plentifully rich Troy family had been his last job. The diamond he had found in the house was so large that he could've retired. Unfortunately, getting out of the house had not been as easy as getting in. When he had backed out of the room, he brushed a small table in the corridor and the large vase that stood upon it had been knocked over. As it smashed on the floor, after his failed attempt at catching it, he turned in panic only to face the blank, staring face of a shocked young woman in her nightgown. They stared at each other for several moments. Sweat-beads ran down his forehead, and then she looked down at the diamond he held in his gloved hand and started to scream. He took flight down the stairs, with no regard for neither his safety nor for any objects that came in his way. This included a large suit of full-plate armor, which was knocked over, and shattered all over the hall with a thundering crash. He fled out the window that he had entered through, and ran out into the night.
   He hadn't bothered to look back. By now the head of the family would have a gang of bounty hunters on his tail. Even though the Troys were rich, they were not very forgiving. But, hopefully, nobody would look for him here, in this small border-town. Of course Quentin was not his real name, but it was what he called himself now and it would do fine for now. All the while these thoughts ran through his head he had been fondling an enormous diamond, almost the size of his fist.
   The next morning he went out to have a look at the town. There weren't a lot of people and most of them looked very poor. His good heart had overcome his fear of standing out above the crowd, and he had given some children enough coins to let them and their parents enjoy a few better days. Walking back towards the inn, he noticed another stranger in town. He was riding a large, black horse. It was the perfect steed. It had a perfect black hide, its teeth shining bright in its mouth. Even at this distance he was sure, that he could feel the intelligence behind its eyes. The person on the horse was one of the king's border-knights. From the colors on his shield, he was sure that this knight belonged to the Plainsong family. As far as he knew, only one from the Plainsong family was patrolling the borders, and this was obviously he.
   On his walk to the other end of the town, he noticed that Plainsong also went inside the inn. Towards the end of the afternoon, he decided to return to the inn looking forward to a good meal and a good nights sleep. However, as fate would have it he saw a group of people riding into town. They were riding fast in formation. The horses were heavy, muscular beasts used for hunting. The riders were heavily armed and clothed in thick coats. They looked as though they had not shaved nor bathed for several days. They looked mercenary.
   Instantly he knew that they had been sent for him, and he started to look for a possible way to escape. As he was near the inn, his eyes fell on the stables. Stables meant horses, and while he had been here several travelers had come to the inn. Their horses would be in the stables now. He hurried towards the entrance without drawing too much attention to him self. This was bad, how could they possibly have found him so quickly? If only he had not lingered in this town for so long, he could have escaped them completely.
   He entered the stables. Darkness had already crept up upon him, and the light was even dimmer inside. Though he could see the stalls, he could not hear any movement from within. The panic started to crawl up on him again, what if there were no horses? He would be trapped in here. There was no other way out as far as he could tell. As he neared the end of the stalls, he could hear a faint sound. It was almost like a breath but very irregular. He closed in on the sound and saw a large, black horse. It was fully saddled and seemed eager to get out. He could relate to that feeling, and without further hesitation grabbed the reins and pulled it outside.
   The bounty hunters had not yet spotted him, but it was only a matter of time. Luckily, he already had all his belongings with him in case of an emergency such as this. He could hear a group of people talking just on the other side of the building, and they were not talking about the weather. Words like "dead or alive", "diamond" and "reward" reached his ears. He quietly led the horse away from the inn, and only when he had reached the outskirts of the town did he mount the horse. By now, the only light came from the stars and the large, yellow full moon that was lazily rising towards its position as the ruler of the night sky.
   Riding through the night, he was sure he heard horses just behind him several times. The clouds had sunken to the ground and had covered it with a misty shroud. Luckily, his horse was somehow able to find its way by the light of the moon and it galloped as speedily as Quentin could ever have wished for. When his panic finally receded into the back of his mind, he had no idea of how long they had been riding. The moon had moved from just above the treetops to its throne at the roof of the sky. It was a beautiful moon. Large, full and glowing as it was, he could almost make out the details of its surface. He stared into this yellow eye for what seemed quite a long time, and when he finally pulled his gaze away from the sky he became aware of the fact that they had stopped and were now at a crossroad.
   He could hear the sound of heavily strained iron chains slowly swinging in the breeze. As he came nearer to the crossroad, he could see large, cylindrical shapes hanging from large poles. They were slowly moving in the wind, though heavy as they were it was almost unnoticeable. Upon closer inspection, Quentin could see smaller shapes inside the cast iron cages, and he shuddered.
   The wind fell quiet and the moon peered down from the sky with its faint yellow glow, only to reveal more cages. He passed the first cages and could not help but to look at the remains of the poor souls left in there to starve, wither and eventually rot. This could have been him, had he not fled in time. The horse seemed to slow even more as they passed the next cages. In there, he could see formless shapes, no longer human. Their bodies had fallen to the horrors of their punishment and eventually their bones had fallen to the ground, escaping imprisonment in death. When he passed the last cage on his right, he felt a sudden pull of his arm. A hand had reached out from the cage and taken hold of his arm.

"What gives you the right to lay your filthy hands on me?" he said and turned his head towards the cage.
   Inside he saw an old man, thin from starvation and thirst. His eyes were sunken deep into his head, giving him the resemblance of a skeleton, which was probably not far from the truth anyway.
   "Oh I'm sorry, I just wanted to touch the fine clothes you're wearing." The words came slowly, dripping. "There was a time when I wore such fine clothes as well." The words trickled out of his mouth like a thick, lazy fluid. "I lived the easy life, but not anymore, and I never will."
   The slow speed of the man's speech was starting to make Quentin nervous. He was losing time, and it seemed the old man's repentance could go on forever.
   "Unhand me, you blabbering old fool!" he cried. But little did it help.
   "They caught me one night, I let my guard down... had gotten too careless. Sleeping I was captured, waking I was dragged away. They promised to go easy on me, if I told them everything about what I had done. I believed them."
   The low voice of the man was getting even more incoherent as he started sobbing.
   "And now, I just wait to lie still in this barred grave. All because I took the easy way out and didn't want to work. I was lazy, and so I became a thief."
   "Save it for someone who cares!" The irritation the old man had caused him, made it easy for Quentin to wrestle his arm free, and quickly he pulled away from the cage.
   Then they were on him. The lazy, buzzing speech of the prisoner had distracted him and he had not heard their horses coming. Now they came crashing down upon him like a river let loose. His horse gave a start as he kicked his heels into its side, and the hunt was on. He was not sure, but there seemed to be too few after him. But then again, he had only caught a quick glimpse of them and there was no time to think about it now. It did not matter anyway, because he was sure that he was gaining distance to his pursuers. He had made a fine choice taking this particular horse; it would do a fine job carrying him far away. Before he had a chance to think any further the world stopped. Or so it seemed to him, caught in the throat by a rope hanging across the road between two trees, almost separating his head from his body. A sharp pain in his back informed him that he had landed on the ground, hard. He tried to stand up, but immediately his legs were pulled away from under him. Again he tried, but now his problems were accompanied by harsh laughter. He suddenly understood. He had been caught, and his survival instinct slowly kicked in. Well, he would lose the diamond but at least he would have the generosity of the local gaoler bestowed upon him for a while, yeah, easy living. If he did not choose to flee, that is. The bounty hunters began to search him. They worked fast and efficiently and it did not take them long to find their quarry. All the while, two of them were pointing the sharp ends of their swords at his throat.
   "Here it is, boys. Mr. Troy's diamond is coming home. Now, what do we do with this here thief?"
   "I don't know, chief, but there were hanging some mighty fine cages just a bit back." This released a cruel laughter from most of the men, although Quentin was not happy about the idea.
   "No, wait! You're supposed to take me to prison, get money, bounty hunters and all"
   "Sorry, little man. We get paid to deliver the diamond. Mr. Troy doesn't really care where you rot."
   " Then you'll let me go?" Awakening relief could be detected in Quentin's voice. Laughter was heard again.
   "Well, you see my little thief. We are also getting paid to punish you in any way we see fit."
   "Besides", one of the other men added, "wouldn't it be fitting for a thief to be locked away?"
   "No, you can't do this. It isn't right! You can't leave me out here!" Alas, Quentin's pleas were only answered with laughter as they carried him back to a cage. When they were done shoving him inside his new home the men parted with him.
   "Well, little thief, I guess it ends here. Nothing personal, just business."
   "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your horse, seeing as you won't be needing it anymore." This last remark released a literal outcry of laughter. As the merriments of the bounty hunters faded into the night, a new sound came to life. A spluttering, maniacal laughter rung out from another cage, it was the old man, now laughing incessantly.
   "You came back, didn't ya? Came back to me?" His speech crumbled into more laughter.
   "Were you...haha... were you...lazy?"
   The last thing Quentin heard from the old man was his laughter and unending questions. After a while the old man fell quiet and left Quentin to the solitude of the rest of his life.