[Folwren]

Javan cleared his plate once, then twice, and then became restless as people continued sitting about, chatting and eating slowly. He glanced to his right. Cnebba sat leaning his cheek against one hand with his elbow resting on the table, while with his spoon he pushed about some left over potatoes. Beyond him, Stigend and Garwine were talking together. He glanced to his left, at Garmund, who sat with both hands folded in his lap and his eyes staring straight forward with a dull, bored expression on his face.

“Come on, fellows,” he said, tapping the boys on the shoulders. He turned and slipped off the bench. With a glance at each other, the two others followed him.

“What are we going to do?” Garmund asked.

“I don’t know, but we were all three of us bored beyond endurance.”

“I want to check Snowstreak,” Cnebba said, suddenly. “I don’t think she’s in a stall tonight and I want to make sure she is alright. Would you come with me?”

“Sure. Let’s get a scarf or something – it’s cold outside.” They raided their room quickly, searching for warm garments to throw on, and then as swiftly as possible, so as to avoid detection, they passed quietly through the main hall and then out into the courtyard. They were about to enter the stables when the sound of angry voices reached them. The boys crowded into the shadow of the doorway and peered out.

“Who is it?” Garmund whispered. Javan shook his head. From here, he could not even see the shapes of the people arguing. Without a word, he crept out, following the wall of the stable. They hurried down it, crouching in the narrow shadow by the wall, until they came to the corner and finally came into view of where three men stood, two facing one.

“It’s Lithor!” Cnebba whispered, horrified.

“Who are the other two?” Garmund asked.

“I don’t know either of them. They're new,” Javan replied, shaking his head. It didn’t look good. It didn’t look good at all. They knelt on the cold ground, waiting.