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The footsteps trailing behind him do not give him any relief in the slightest. The rapidly darkening sky serves a reminder that they may have to stop for the night, and Michael does not have the patience for that. Even if the steady weight of the rope in his hands gives him a reprieve, any comfort it carries is taken by the quick-wit thief behind him.
Richard Goranski was a well-known character, a robin hood of sorts, that roamed the upper estates of the rich, looking for anything that could be easily swiped before returning it to the townspeople. Sometimes he'd even help the innocent escape if he thought he could get away with it. Though he had to have expected to get caught sooner or later because he was still relatively new to the scene.
Michael, on the other hand, had been one of the many swordsmen sent to capture him. As far as Michael knew, he was the only one to succeed. And at first, he hadn't really known what to expect, but it surely wasn't the silently confident vigilante-ish type who, as Michael begrudgingly noticed, seemed to be a nice person.
The tense silence was broken by the teen, voice quieter than Michael had ever heard from him. "Why did you decide to do this?" The question is a bit confusing to Michael, which thankfully, Richard realizes. "I mean the whole knight thing." His eyes glance to the side of the dirt path, nervous energy radiating from his small frame. Michael glances up, noting that they'll actually have to set camp for the night, and he sighs.
"It's not like there was much else for me," he says, wondering why it felt so easy to talk about, especially considering who he was with. Richard just had that kind of energy, he supposed, the makings of a good friend. For a moment, Michael believes they could have been friends in another world, another life. "This was the only way out."
Richard hums. "I...I think I know how you feel," he says, a far-off expression being painted onto his face. "Having nowhere else to go, I mean." He goes quiet after that.
"Really?"
Richard stops, his bottom lip snug between his teeth as he debates his next words. He comes to some kind of compromise in his head as his ensuing words are, "My father and I don't get along too well. And my mother-" Richard starts walking again as he talks, his tied hands gesturing the best they could, being tied together and all. "I just had to get out," he finishes with.
Michael stops, reaching into his bag, and in a rare moment of trust, pulls out a knife and cuts through the rope. Richard watches him with wide eyes as he slides the blade back into the satchel. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he mutters to himself before speaking to the other boy. "Please don't make me regret this." Richard nods, still speechless as he stares at his unbound wrists. Then Michael proceeds to start settling down for the night.
And if, after what felt like hours of conversation and feelings being thrown around, Michael ended up letting him go with a warning and promise of contact later, then that was just for the two of them to know.
"See you around, forest boy."
"Not if I find you first, red."