The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

(Porter)

Porter couldn't help but feel guilty as he crept through the forest behind Gwinn. Sarah had only wanted to help. Still, he'd done the right thing by leaving her with the others, right? He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He'd told her he would need a clear head to do this. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by doing exactly what he'd done to keep himself from being distracted.

Gwinn moved with astounding stealth despite his large size. His six paws touched the ground silently, not disturbing a single leaf or twig. Porter tried to mimic him, but compared to the wampus cat he sounded like a stampede. After forty five minutes of walking like this, Gwinn stopped and motioned for Porter to lower himself to the ground. The boy lay down on his stomach and continued to follow him, pulling himself forward with his forearms. This was slower going, but in a few minutes he began to make out voices ahead.

"Get the freaks some food already!" a gruff voice called out. "We can't sell them if they're starved to death!"

In the distance, Porter could see light. His stomach began to turn flip flops with the knowledge that he was now on enemy territory. It was kinda funny, he thought. After everything he'd done, he would have thought he'd be used to things like this.

"There are lots of cages in the Caravan," Gwinn whispered over his shoulder. "I don't know which one Tick is in, so we'll have to move quickly and inspect them until we find him."

Porter nodded his understanding just as the first few wagons came into view. They were brightly painted and had bars on both sides, like they were transporting circus animals— which, Porter reminded himself, was exactly what they thought they were doing. As he watched, a shaved dwarf waddled his way to the last cage in line, carrying a large pot of food with him. He quickly ladled a bowl full of slop and passed it between the bars, which the Mythic inside accepted, all without a single word.

"Why doesn't he run?" Porter whispered.

"Because he knows it would be pointless," Gwinn answered. "Do you really think escaping from the Caravan would be that easy?"

Porter fell silent and continued to watch as the dwarf made his way from cage to cage, silently passing out food.

"So," he said at last, "how are we doing this?"

"We need to do it now," Gwinn replied. "The Caravan never stops moving except for short breaks like this. We won't be able to sneak around while they're on the move. If they get going again before we get my son out of there, we'll have to retreat and wait for them to stop again."

"All right," Porter agreed. "We should wait until the dwarf moves away from us, and then we can sneak underneath the wagons."

"Good idea," Gwinn nodded.

It took several minutes, but the dwarf finally moved far enough away that they couldn't see him anymore. A few slave traders still milled around the area, but they didn't seem to be paying very close attention. Gwinn motioned that he would go first, and then crept forward slowly, keeping his belly close to the ground. Porter sucked in his breath anxiously. Gwinn's snow-white fur was even more noticeable than Faska's cloak, especially in broad daylight. All it would take was a casual glance in his direction and the slave traders would spot him. Luckily, they were more concerned with their own conversations than they were with doing their jobs, and Porter led out a sigh of relief when the wampus cat darted forward and slid underneath the closest wagon without being noticed.

Now it was his turn. Trying to move as silently as Gwinn had, Porter made his way forward, using the trees to hide himself. His foot nudged a loose stone, sending it skittering down the side of the hill, and he froze, clenching his teeth.