
The overseer nearly got Aquila. In place before dawn, Nicos had changed his tactics, staying still and waiting for the poacher to appear in the deepest part of the wood, rather than trying to track him as he hunted, snaring the small game and spearing the larger, stealing what was not rightfully his from the fenced-off land belonging to Cassius Barbinus. He and the men he led made sure they were downwind of their quarry, so that when the boy stopped well short of the first of his traps, he was not sure why. It was the lack of noise in a place that should not be silent: such a thing signified a threat. Remaining still, he saw no birds fly nor land in the trees and a search of the morning sky showed no hawks or kestrels, not even a high-flying eagle. If no birds sang in the woods, nor were staying still for fear of a flying hunter, that meant there was something else present, something large enough to command a hush.
Slowly and silently he backed away, watching with care where he placed his sandalled feet on a forest floor thick with leaves, twigs and broken-off branches. If it was a large predator that had made the forest still he had no desire to confront it; if it was human the chances of that being friendly were small. Aquila knew just how angry the Barbinus overseer was at his poaching, because Nicos had told everyone in the district that he knew what was going on and just what he intended to do with a whip when he caught the culprit.
