Kinngar walked into the village feeling about as out of place as a fox in a hen house.  The feeling that he was the center of attention and that they would be spotted came bluntly before him as the guard came up and started talking to Jira.  He could feel is all the way to his bone that they were going to be found out and taken in.  Jira spun her tale like a practiced rogue trying to get them out of a jam, but he knew it wouldn’t work.<br/><br/>His perspiration began to run down his back and he knew that his face must be red from the feel of the blood rushing to his head.   Thoughts of prison and torture were flying through his mind and he wanted to reach for his sword, there was only one of them here and they beat the men on the farm, why not here and now.  Jira just dug into his arm and kept telling her tale, what was that she called him, feeble minded, what is that supposed to mean.<br/><br/>His breathing was fast and he felt light headed, then the guard turned to him, think Kinngar, what are you supposed to say ….<br/><br/>He took his free hand and began to rub the back of his neck and and rocked his head back and forth not looking the guard in the eye, instead he looked over the man’s shoulder. He remembered that the crazy old man in the town back home used to do that.  Maybe that is what she meant, he always talked jibberish and nobody ever paid attention to him, so maybe he could do the same.<br/><br/><strong>“Talk … talk … ye-ye-yes sirrr, I ca-ca-can talk,”</strong>he looked at Jira next,<strong>“i-i-s th-th-this the ta-ta-town, that ma-ma-maw sent us too Kate.” </strong>He continued to bob his head back and forth as he said it and never ceased vigerously rubbing the back of his neck.<br/><br/><br/>His only hope was that he was convincing enough that they would spot him as futre King material and would let them go.<br/>