2

After a short eternity, the wanderer had arrived at the hills.

From close up, they no longer seemed gentle, but rather like a wall. He decided to look around for a camp. The last orange streaks of the sun were just enough to make out the smoke.

It came from a clearing not far away, and as the wanderer approached the campfire, he caught sight of a figure sitting leaning against a tree a little ways away from the fire. It was an old man, much older than himself. With lifeless eyes, he stared at the wanderer for a few moments before signalling with a weak gesture of his hand for him to sit down. 

The wanderer sat down across the man and warmed his hands by the fire. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just nodded gratefully and remained silent. The silence between the two was interrupted by Avemortis, who took a seat on a branch above the wanderer with a clack.The man eyed the bird and finally said in a croaking voice:

"I had one of those once."

"And where is he now?"
The old man hesitated to answer. Finally he looked up at the starless sky and shook his head weakly.
"He was here a moment ago, now he's gone, maybe he'll be back tomorrow."
The crunch of the fire filled the silence that followed. When the wanderer awoke in the morning, the old man was still asleep. The fire was still burning, bidding him farewell with a cheerful crackle.