[There were a few carts lined up before the trail opened up to a path of seemingly unending refugees. A few of them seemed much like their own, caged up stalls holding a scarce few other prisoners, giving them time to rest before they'd be forced to march on foot again. Three carts though were entirely concealed. The one directly behind the prisoners cages was guarded by a single soldier. The one after that guarded by three people, two by the front and one trailing behind in the back. The final cart was the most protected; one guard standing on top, surveilling everything around him, while two watched on each side.]

... So what do you think? It's probably one of those.

[Your call bub.]