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Bo’az had used his cloak often to sneak away from his brother and father as well. Often, he felt the need to be alone and think about what the future held for them.
    After the incident with the Samson girl, Bo’az had a feeling that the three of them would be in for a lot of change. His father, on too many occasions, would sit staring off into nothing. Then, once he’d snapped out of his daze, he’d forget what he’d been doing. His father just seemed sad all the time, as if he’d been holding in more problems and emotions than a human body could contain.
    Baltaszar, on the other hand, rarely showed any emotion. Bo’az could never really tell whether their father’s conviction and house arrest bothered him, or if he was just holding it all in. Baltaszar never talked about any of it unless Bo’az brought it up first.
    Bo’az had always supposed that Baltaszar talked to Yasaman about his thoughts. They’d been together since just after Carys Joben’s kitchen burned down. Baltaszar would go off to see her nearly every day, sometimes not returning until nearly sunrise. Supposedly, her father hadn’t approved of Baltaszar, but Baltaszar always managed to sneak into her bedroom once her parents fell asleep. It only made sense that Baltaszar would have confided everything in her, which made it stranger still when she stopped talking to him. But that was just another thing that Baltaszar never talked about. I would’ve made it work, even if her father didn’t approve.
    Bo’az wished he and Baltaszar had talked more, especially with everything they’d been through in the past few years. After the incident at the Joben home, he’d obviously lost his chance to be with Lea Joben. It also ruined the chance to marry any woman in Haedon. Why wasn’t Yasaman afraid to be with Baltaszar? Maybe she was, and that was why she left him. Or maybe he just did something stupid to anger her. Despite all those hours he’d run off to think about things by himself, Bo’az still had no idea about what to do now. His home seemed like a good start.
    As he walked on in the dark, Bo’az could see the forest beginning to thin out. He could decipher faint torches outside people’s homes at the edge of the woods. It was early enough that people might be awake, so he’d have to be careful walking to the farm. Stepping out from the trees, Bo’az turned right and headed to the eastern edge of Haedon. He would walk the perimeter of Elmer Guff’s farm to get to his own, which didn’t figure to be a problem considering that Guff was too old to be out at this time. He was probably asleep. Guff was a quiet, meek man who kept to himself. Age had been getting the best of him the past few years, but he refused to give up the farm to move to any of his children’s houses. Three of his sons and two grandsons would come over every morning to take care of the farm animals and any chores that needed to be done.
    Bo’az stayed along the high wooden fence around the farm to make himself less visible, careful with every footstep not to wake the sheep and horses that slept in the stables and pens. No one would be walking this way, as it was the outermost part of the town, but there was no need to take any chances. He turned left at the southeastern corner on the shorter side of the farm, where two giant oaks stood side by side to mark the edge of Haedon. There were farms to his left, forest and mountains to his right, mud beneath his feet, and silence everywhere. After close to another quarter mile of grass and mud, Bo’az could finally see the edges of his own farm.
    Bo’az hadn’t realized it had rained so badly last night. It soaked everything. The path had turned to a thick layer of mud. Every time he took a step, his feet were sucked into the ground and he would have to pull them out, resulting in a loud ‘pop’ and splash. From the fence, Bo’az could see the horse stables he’d tended for so many years. The fence consisted of three