Tim woke at a leisurely
hour. He massaged his neck and shoulders
before rising with a yawn. “It will be a
long journey to the forge,” he thought aloud.
He strode over to a corner where he kept his travel-sack and
bundle-stick. The feel of burlap meant
great adventure to Tim, as he was far from well-travelled.
From his dresser Tim retrieved
a fresh set of garments. A forest-green
tunic above a linen shirt and cloth leggings made up his clothes for
travel. Tim fished a fistful of copper
coins, a few artichokes from his pitiful garden, and a waterskin. He placed them in his sack and tied them to
his stick, setting it aside so that he could perform further preparations.
Food was limited in the
forest. Tim nibbled at some wild pears
that managed to grow on a feral tree not far from his dwelling. The excitement of his quest began to gnaw at
him. With a toss of his fruit to his
friends, Tim entered his boots, mounted his luggage on his shoulder, and set
out into the wood.
The floor of the forest
produced a soft crunch. Or a grotesque
ooze when he stepped on… Nonetheless,
Tim trudged forward at a brisk pace. The
rounded to the east down a gentle slope.
The downgrade was flanked by maples, the same trees he used to make
syrup for the squirrels. He didn’t eat
it himself, that would be folly. The
squirrels don’t take kindly to people who eat their syrup.
The faint pathway out of the
wood edged to the right along a spindly stream.
The minor waterway was the main source of water in Tim’s part of the
forest. It doubled as a marking system
to grant the easiest exit from the forest.
Tim followed it for about a mile with little excitement. That all changed.
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