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He had been tending his horses in the stable and never heard anyone approach. Why would he worry? No one ever did here unless Gilbert escorted them in or the odd Zoner freedom fighter passed by, the latter asked not to stay around. His state of mind was very withdrawn as recent events had him on edge. This was his secret place and he purposely kept it that way. He hadn't shaved in a few days but he did at least keep his his hair groomed.
"George," he said kindly to his horse as he rubbed it's shoulder, "I'm calling it a night. Look after Gracie until morning."
Looking around for Niki, he noticed she wasn't about.
"Probably caught another mouse," he stated to himself. Taking up his old double barreled shot gun, he quietly headed for the house.
He walked softly out here. Not because he didn't want someone to hear him but he made it a point not to disturb nature and he was good at it so when he saw someone in a chair on his porch, he kept quiet behind a corner. It wasn't quite dark yet but dusk was setting in making details of a face hard to make out. Slowly, he took a long way around, quietly setting the hammers of his shotgun. Out here, he was the hunter. Quietly, he found his way to the porch, taking a step onto the deck, the barrels of his weapon fixed at the head of the chair's occupant. That's when he finally spoke.
"Turn around slowly," instructed softly, "and keep your hands where I can see them."