Returning to his room, he eased the door closed and then pulled his boots on. He was about to slip through the window, but he halted and got off the bed. He tiptoed to the chest at the foot of his bed. He opened the chest and extracted a length of rope, which he stuffed into his pack. He stood silently for a moment as if thinking about anything else he might need. Finally, he shook his head and shrugged. Kenda poked his head out of the window and gazed along the alley. There was no one in sight, so he climbed out the window and landed softly on the ground.

Kenda walked briskly along the alley. The fog hung so thick in places that anyone not familiar with the city of Duran would be foolish to attempt moving about, but Kenda was no stranger to the city. He had lived in Duran all of his life. The boy reached the street and looked both ways before emerging from the alley. He heard the clomping of a horse somewhere off to his right, but he could not see anyone. He raced across the street and continued along the alley for a short distance.

When he was well into the alley, he slowed down to avoid accidentally bumping into the supplies that Jackle’s father had stacked in the alleyway. He moved cautiously until the building materials came into view. Just beyond the stack of lumber and the pile of stones, Kenda moved close to the building and pulled himself up to peer through the window of his friend.

“Let’s go, Jackle,” Kenda urged softly. “It’s perfect weather out this morning. The fog is thicker than usual. Let’s go.”

“You sure this is a good idea?” Jackle asked as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Your Pa will be mad when he finds out that you are gone.”

“I doubt it,” countered Kenda. “Our fathers did the same thing when they were boys. I heard them laughing about it, but they never made it all the way. We are going to make it.”