The two women huddle together into a low space on one of the shelves. Jerrie is towards the back, huddled over with her fist pressed tightly over her mouth. Katriel can still see the aisle with one eye. The footsteps approach slowly, almost as if the person is matching in half time. Eventually they arrive at the row where the two theives are hiding.
The figure in the dark does indeed turn as if on parade. They begin to slowly proceed down the line. The leather of their clothing creaks almost deafeningly in the silence. No, not just their clothing but their limbs as well. The guard must be positively ancient for their bones and joints to be so stiff. Then Katriel realizes something. They don't have a light. This elderly person is parade marching around in a dark warehouse without so much as a candle.
Both women freeze solid as the guard passes by, his heavy steps reverberating through the floor. Katriel can't help but shift slightly and silently to follow his movement in the blackness. As he passes closer to the grimy windows she begins to make out faint lines. A leather jerkin, full gloves, long pants, solid boots, but the most interesting article has to be his helmet. Polished so that it glints even in the faint light, Kat can see, as the man turns to leave, that it is very distinctive. An open
sallet design but with a face guard that only covered the left side. The guard's age is again apparent, as only someone very old could have a face so thin as to not show on the right beneath the shadows of that helm.