3

Climbing the hills turned out to be more of a challenge than the wanderer originally anticipated. Exactly how long it took him to get there he could not say, perhaps a week, perhaps a year.

When he finally arrived back on the other side of the hills, he was rewarded with the babbling of a stream and a new view of the path ahead. Before him was a forest, full of dense oaks and pines. The grass that had been tamped down earlier was alive and full of energy. But except for Avemortis, the wanderer still could not make out any animals.

The wanderer enjoyed the shade of the forest, only now realizing how uncomfortable the sun had been on his neck before.

That first night in the forest, the wanderer dreamed of a woman. She had full black hair that was shining in the sunshine. When he woke up in the morning with tears, he could not even remember the face. I wonder who the woman was? A relic of the past or a vision of the future? The wanderer did not know.

A little later, the wanderer noticed something glaring at him from the shadows. It was a broken blade. Although it had been there for so long that it was already a permanent part of the forest, rust stayed away from it. The wanderer briefly weighed whether he should perhaps take it with him.

He decided against it.