The Ranger was distracted enough that he did not notice the small figure that approached his cabin. Moving about inside, he gathered the few belongings he would be able to carry with him. He packed only a single pair of extra clothes, a set of shoes, and some light cookware. He also gathered what food he had on hand that would last a while on the road.<br/><br/>It was harder than he imagined it would be. He didn't want to leave his home. He knew that his people would suffer without him. Despite all this, he also knew that danger was now coming from him, and would find him soon. He needed to be far from those he loved, to spare them the pain they would doubtless experience.<br/><br/>He sat down at his table, took out a roll of paper, a quill and ink, and began to write. It was the hardest letter he ever wrote. He concocted the only story he could think of that would convince the people not to follow. He told them that he was tired of the simple life in this town, the endless work, and had decided to leave and find a better life. He made the letter as cold and cruel as he could manage. They would be deeply offended by it. It was his hope that they would be angry enough at him that they would not follow.<br/><br/>A tear forming in his eye, he rose, hefted his pack onto his shoulder, and was about to leave, when he heard a noise. It was a soft snore. He sighed. The boy. Of course. He picked up the letter from where he'd planned to leave it, and went outside. The lad was packed for travel and waiting by the side of his cabin. He felt a pang or grief hit him as he knelt, placed the letter in the boy's lap, and turned to begin walking. Each step got harder as his home, life, and friends fell behind him.