Jaen was walking. Night had fallen and his body was tired. He needed to find somewhere to sleep. He lit a lantern and looked around. He decided that it would have to do, and slung off his heavy brown rucksack. He untied the shoelace holding it closed and opened the flap to reveal it's contents. He pulled out a pot and some oats. He would eat porridge - his food supply was limited, after all. He picked up some sticks and drew his dagger. He stripped the sticks, and threw the ones that were green inside away. He then made a pile. He coated his pile with some dry leaves, cleared the ground around the pile and then pulled out his trusty fint and steel - kept in different places in the bag, obviously, and lit the fire. He poured some of the slightly brown oats out of the small pouch in his bag and added water from the flask around his waist. He put the pan on his metal fold-up stand he stole from a Guard and left the stand on top of the fire to cook the porridge. Now it was time to put up the tent - fast.

Taw ran over the road. There would be no carts this time of night. It was perfect. With his hand tightly clasping Fawn's, he dashed into an alley and stopped. He looked at Fawn. Her long blond hair was in her face and she was sweating. She was nervous, and both of them knew it. Taw's nerves weren't particularly at ease either, but he had to press on. His plan depended on it. He took his hand out of Fawn's and put it up, palm facing her. 'You wait here' he mouthed. He put his arm down to his side and gingerly poked his head out to check for Guards. Nothing. The coast was clear. 'Come on' he mouthed to Fawn and beckoned. She moved forwards and Taw grabbed it. They ran across the road and on to the pavement. They sped towards the corner and turned up on to Market Street. This was deadly. Market Street was empty and if they were seen, they would no doubt be killed. They ran on, up Market Street, crossed the street and dashed into yet another alley.
See Part 2 for more.