Maora looped back round, carrying on a couple metres down the track. She came to a stop by a tree, shuffling through her bag with her fingers whilst her eyes darted to the right. She watched as someone, concealed mostly by foliage, watched her intently, almost as if they were a statue long forgotten.
Maora let her saddle bags drop back over her shoulder and turned on her heal, slowly making her way down the path, trying not to look suspicious. When she reached the area that hid the entrance of the tunnel, she noticed half a footprint in a spot of mud as she walked past.
She kept walking, only taking a quick glance out the corner of her eyes so not to give the tunnel's entrance away to the person following her, her steps making crunching noises on the gravel.
The sun was hidden completely behind the peaks now, the night air silent and heavy around her as she kept a good pace walking through the pass.
Maora came to a halt, pulling an apple out of her bag and finishing it in a couple minutes, tossing the core into some bushes. Her eyes had been darting around throughout the time she ate, watching again for any signs of the person. She soon stood up, starting off in a quick jog rather than walking, in the hope to gain some ground on the other two who were most likely having a quick break too. She rubbed her hands together, hoping to create some warmth on her finger tips that felt ice cold.
Maora ran for half an hour, pacing herself and steadying her breathing. Her mood lifted when ahead, she saw fire light flickering up at the top of a short hill. She noticed a little shack looking thing next to where the light was coming from, and she picked up her pace.
Night during winter was unforgiving - and Maora knew this all too well. As she reached the top of the hill, there was no-one there watching the fire but two horses that stood nearby, tied to a wooden post. They were shaggy looking things, their coats had not yet been clipped for the coming winter, but still under all the fur she could see the rippling muscles and power that they possessed, and watched cautiously as one watched her with bright eyes and a great interest.
Unlike many of the horses and ponies she'd seen on the past that evening that seemed bored and tired, these were bright and awake, young and full of life. Their tack lay on the floor nearby, and she stiffened as the fire cracked beside her. There was a bag placed carelessly on the floor by it, and a spilled cup of water that looked recently knocked over.
No sooner had she noticed this, someone slipped out from behind the wooden shack. Upon instinct, she grabbed the person's wrist that held a small knife tight, punching them in the stomach, making them drop the knife. Maora knelt down and grabbed it, rolling a long the ground and out of the way as the person recovered and tried to grab her.
Maora's new and unused knife with the ivy hilt appeared, and she spun round, holding it to their throat.
It turned out to be a boy, looking Maora's age. He was putting on a brave face but she could see the terror in his eyes, and she dropped the knife.
"If you don't want to be scared and held at knife point, don't go attacking people. Not everyone coming along the pass wants to steal your horses." she said, handing his knife back. She decided he wouldn't attempt to run her through any time soon.
"M-my bad." he stuttered, coughing. "These horses are worth a lot, is all. I'd be dead if anything happened to them." he said, scratching his arm absentmindedly.
She took this oppurtunity with both hands, spinning round to look at him from where she held her hands to the fire. "You want help getting them somewhere?" she said, wondering if she sounded too eager. The boy looked conflicted.
