Warren sat in his hidden tree fort. Laying on a large limb, in wait for the rest. A stone circle was a mark for the Meeting area. Tonight was the night. In a week, he was heading to the so called town, Greenholm. Puck was cuddled up tightly in Warren's cloak pocket and was falling asleep. Inside Warren's head, he was counting the ticks and tock's. At the 59's tock, he slowed his breathing and listened. His hand grasping his knife. Any minute now. They should be here any minute now...