“Where’s Anderson now?” Dwyn asked. He watched, his brows furrowed as Artesius drew out a small box and began to tap on it.

“He’s still near your father’s manor,” Artesius replied. “I’ve got him on visuals. He’s heading back toward the mountains though so we’d best hurry.”

“Visuals?” Gwilym asked.

Artesius turned the box so the humans could see. There, as if he’d somehow been shrunk and put inside the box was Anderson. “How’d you make him so small?” Dwyn asked.

“Didn’t,” Artesius said. “It’s just an image of him. He’s near enough to one of our Eyes that we caught him on camera. Eyes are… it’s hard to explain.”

“You shouldn’t explain,” the faun said softly. “The humans don’t need to know everything that we’re capable of.”

“Images…. Like a painting?” Dwyn said, frowning at the small box. “It’s moving. Is this what he’s doing now?”

“Yes,” Artesius replied. “We have little outposts – unmanned mostly – all over. We use them to monitor human activity. It’s how we avoid human travelers and the like. We call them Eyes.”

“That makes sense,” Gwilym said. “So we can see him, but he can’t see us and we know where he is, so we can avoid a direct confrontation as we make our way past him to his mountain home.”

“Exactly,” Artesius replied. He darted a glance at Ari and added, “Much as I’d like to trample the man, we’d do better to avoid him and focus on rescuing the other centaurs.”

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