The patrol didn’t stop until morning, when the sun finally began to cast its light across the tree tops and sent a warm glow through the forest. Gustaf set me down, and I leaned against a small aspen, its few low branches slightly hiding me. I hadn’t said a word the entire time; my heart was much too heavy with the thoughts running rampant through my mind. One of the patrol offered me something to eat and I could tell he was sorry for me, but in answer I quietly turned my head away, closing my eyes.
The patrol cat then informed the captain, who in turn stood up and walked my way. Groaning inwardly, I looked up at Gustaf as he stood in front of me.
Studying me, the dark cat stood there for a moment. “Being captured and taken to Tarilamor isn’t the happiest situation, but I wouldn’t have expected the famed outlaw to get depressed about it!” Gustaf almost laughed.
I glared at him silently as he chuckled, bending over me. To my amazement, he cut the ropes that tied my hands. I gritted my teeth, rubbing my wrists, but didn’t try and get away because my feet were still tied. The captain pulled iron cuffs off his belt and snapped them onto my wrists. I could now move my hands separately, but the two cuffs were attached by a chain. He locked them with a key and stood up, walking away. As I watched him, he gave the key to one of the patrol cats.
Suddenly I had a plan. Sort of.
