What else should he have done? The question kept coming back while Lester crouched behind the bush. It had started to rain, but he barely noticed the drops on his head. Lester was glad for all the dust that had saved him for heaving to see the lifeless body. Or maybe he wouldn't have been lifeless. Maybe he survived. Lester sighed. Even he didn't believe himself. With a building that touched the clouds collapsing onto the giant, there was nothing left but sand.

Lester was getting restless. Sitting here with nothing but his thoughts was not what he needed right now. It had been quite some time since their escape and there was still no noise from the fishermen’s cabin. Their plan was simple. Wait here until they move and follow them to find the bigger picture. To find Dorothy. He had done this many times and while the reasons had been different, the work was the same. So even with his mind buzzing, he remained still. Unlike Jonathan who had started to fidget beside him. But he didn't mind. After their first meeting, he hadn't pinned him as one to see things through once they get tough. And because of that, he was just thankful for having been wrong. Lester looked back at the leaves dancing in the wind and while his thoughts grew darker again, the clouds did as well. The soft sprinkle, mostly caught by the trees, turned into a heavy pour that made them wet to the bones. Sitting there, cold and wet, made Lester think of many miserable winter nights, but when the three men finally came out of the cabin he was glad for the rain. The man in the robe was first, sprinting to the wagon without ever looking away from it. The two others followed shortly after, limping behind him, with big bags on their shoulders. Lester made Jonathan sit still until the wagon disappeared around a curve before they followed the tracks the wagon had left in the muddy road.

»It was him or us.«, Jonathan said after a while.

»I get that.« Lester took a deep breath. »But I still killed him.«

»That is not always a bad thing. Just think of all the stories. You literally defeated a monster. You are a hero.«

»If this is what it feels like to be a hero, I don't know why you're chasing it.«

Jonathan didn't have anything to say to that. They walked next to each other in a comfortable silence. Or at least the silence was not what made Lester uncomfortable. He tried to pay attention to his surroundings. To the beach with some lazy seals lying around. To the forest that grew oddly close to the sea. Or to the rainbow that started to grow in front of them, now that the rain slowly made room for the sun. But he couldn't keep his thoughts there, they always went back to that giant sliding down the mountain. To the building collapsing. To the image of the dead creature, his mind had made up. And in between, he wondered about the giants. How do they live? Do they have a language? Friends? A family? Are there two small crying giants and a lady giant standing next to the ruin right now?

»What do you think made us come back?« Jonathan asked, and this time Lester was glad for it.

»You mean why it ended? Why then? Why not before the giant attacked us?« Lester sighed deeply. »I’ve asked myself that many times. But it’s probably just bad luck. Probably just random.«

Jonathan nodded. »That would also explain, why he ran away, trying to see as much as possible in the limited time he had.«

»Ok. So it ends. It's real. It's awful.« Lester kicked a stone lying in the dirt. »We know nothing.«

»That is what we are following them for.« Jonathan put his hands on his shoulder. »We are going to get them. We will help all they have hurt.«

»It is a little too late for that.«, Lester said.

They got back into their silence, walking beside the wheel tracks. After a while, they saw smoke rise above the trees and shortly after the first houses came into sight. But before they entered the village, their road merged with a much bigger one, adding dozens of tracks they had to find the right one in. For a while slowing down was enough. But just when they entered the village a wagon forced them out of the way, crossing their track multiple times making it much harder to follow. They tried anyway. With people screaming at them to get out of the way they followed the oddly fine gravel road, that was going between simple, all-wood houses.

But it was a lost cause. They were still following some tracks, but if they were honest with themselves, they had no idea if it was the right one. The road went between houses, surrounded by small gardens, that looked similar to the fishermen’s cabin. Between them was the occasional carpenter, blacksmith, tailor, baker and sometimes a tavern changed the salty sea air for a brief moment.

In the end, they found the wagon through sheer luck. Or determination if you want. Long after they had given up on following any tracks, they saw the wagon standing next to a wooden house looking just like all the others. They were too tired, too hungry, too wet, to really be happy about it. With few words, they split their tasks, and after a boring meal, they sat and watched the house in turns.

It was a quiet night with a target that seemed like no one even lived there.