Will gasped as the man unmounted his horse and scurried back sluggishly within the bush. The centaur's warning about pricker bushes was too late though. The boy found himself wincing at the sharp quill protruding from the branches concealing his presence, which now held a piece of fabric from his commoner clothing. His human blood dripped down the length of his arm. He pressed his hand over the bruise just below his shoulder and peered through the leaves.
He's not coming... Will thought with relief. The man was only standing there, though it wouldn't be long before he decided to check inside the bush; when that time came, the boy would have the end of his carved wooden sword ready to poke his eye out. Meanwhile, he looked around for a way to avoid confronting the man in the first place. Will surveyed his surroundings finding -obviously- mud, sticks, and rocks.
The boy switched his sword to the other hand and grabbed a rock with the other; sticking his sword to the side, he would begin to rustle the bushes, adjacent to his location and then tossed the stone at the foot of a tree at the other end of the linear path. This was all an attempt to simulate the action of scurrying, ultimately, leading the man away from his true location.