Dim moonlight filters through the shattered glass windows of an old office building, draping the streets of Haven with a blanket of jagged shadows in multihued edges. The elongated silhouettes of a trio of men trail their counterparts' deliberate footsteps, winking in and out of existence as dictated by the light that gives them life.
One of the men pauses, silently extending an arm to indicate the yawning mouth of a nearby alley before adjusting his course in that direction. He's trailed by his compatriots spread out in a triangle, alert to dangers coming from any direction. Lightly though they tread, the men's heavy boots crunch loose pieces of asphalt and stone as they advance through the unnatural quiet of the urban wasteland, signifying their presence for any who might be present to witness them with all the subtlety of cannonfire.
Jolon looks back to you; all you can see is a single eye in the thin blade of moonlight cutting through the alley, but it glitters with excitement. This isn't the first time you've shadowed the human patrols by night, but you've always kept your distance, observing and learning their patterns and proclivities, cataloging them all for future use. But this time they changed their route, randomizing the sweep directly into the gloom that shelters your prying eyes.
"What should we do?" you hiss under your breath. Your heartbeat quickens, your fears kept at bay only by virtue of weeks of training.
The huntmaster fades from view, appearing several seconds later at your side to whisper in your ear. "It's an excellent question, Decaarr. There is, of course, always the option to do nothing, but given the gravity of the situation, I'd counsel against it."
You suppress the urge to snap in anger. "This isn't the time for games or philosophy, Jolon. They'll be here soon, and they have guns!"
"All the more reason to make your judgment quickly."
Leave it to Jolon to turn a life-or-death situation into a lesson. You can almost feel him smiling at you through the darkness. There's no more time to waste. If he won't make a decision, the responsibility falls on you.
Jolon moves at your direction, and the two of you skitter back through the alley, your practiced footfalls issuing nothing but the slightest wisps of sound to mark your passage.
Nonetheless, something must have alerted the patrol to your presence. A shout goes up from behind, and you hear the patrolmen start to run. You weave out into another street, keeping to the shadows and watching out for another patrol, finally hiding inside a squat building set inconspicuously behind a kiosk that has seen better days. The human patrol spreads out, peeking into windows and down side streets.
"Escaping was a good idea," Jolon says, "but they might have a device that detects motion. We'll need to keep that in mind for the future. For now, slow your heartbeat and calm your breathing. That's it. Now fold yourself back into the far corner."
At Jolon's direction, you find your calm center and become one with the wall. Eventually the soldiers pass the building by, resuming their patrol farther down the street.
Next
When you're certain that the soldiers are long gone, you collapse behind the remains of a brick wall. Jolon hunkers down beside you with an elaborate casualness that some would take at face value. A glance is all it takes to tell you that his weight is centered on his toes, leaving him ready to spring into action at any given moment in spite of his slouch.
"I think that might be enough for tonight," he says, staring wistfully up at the moon. "As entertaining as these excursions always are, even the best of us need some sleep now and again."
You sit in silence for a moment, allowing the thudding of your racing heart to calm. You've enjoyed these nights out; they might even be the only thing that's keeping you sane during the occupation. But now that you think about it, Jolon's never told you why he does it, what he has to gain by taking you under his wing.
In the pregnant quiet of predawn, you both watch the moon fade from view before you finally break the silence.