Stella traveled slowly that day, she was tired and she new Pinecone
shouldn't be pushed too hard after going nonstop for a day. She kept the
pace at a moderate walk, with a few short trots for variation. The trail
grew narrower and the woods grew denser, so Stella was constantly turning
in the saddle and watching for Spidren. As much as the encounter that
morning had boosted her confidence she felt she had already had her daily
monster quota.
Around midmorning she came to a stream, there she stopped a few minutes to drink and fill her water skin, and to let Pinecone drink and rest. A few hours later she came across a very late black berry bush and decided to conserve the food in her packs by making a meal of the berries. While she was eating she had a few crazy thoughts about living off the land; nuts, mushrooms, berries and whatnot, maybe even fish. Then she shook her head, she had never had much camping experience.
At sunset she stopped in a likely looking clearing, made a fire, brushed her horse, spread out her blankets and ate. Then she lay down on her side, listening to the crackling fire and Pinecone's chewing, as she fell asleep tired and satisfied.
Over the next two days Stella felt more rested and picked up her pace. Other than a lack of giant monsters they were quite similar to the previous day. Stella loved them, she loved waking up in the morning and not knowing where she would sleep that night. This was what she had imagined. The weather was ideal, and Pinecone was lively.
Then, on the afternoon of the third day, her food ran out. She had seen it coming but had tried to ignore it. She looked hopefully at the increased signs of civilization; maybe she could beg or wash dishes for a meal. I can get through this, she told herself, I'll be okay. Just as she completed that thought it became to rain. Stella scowled at the sky. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. Stella humbly reached into her bag for her cloak.
The afternoon got older and the sky got darker. Stella began trying to follow wagon wheel marks to a village but lost them in the mud. Then, she began to feel helpless, exposed, and vulnerable; not to mention lonely.
All at once a branch cracked loudly, she jumped, suddenly startled. Pinecone spooked and ran off the trail. Stella plastered herself to his neck and duck under the branches, tugging on the reigns until he stopped. She tried to turn him around and go back but she had somehow lost the path. She frowned puzzled. She thought she heard the stream. She urged Pinecone towards the noise. They just got more lost.
Lightening danced through the sky. Stella swallowed. Okay, she thought, I'm scared.
Then a voice floated through the trees, "never you fret child, old Heather is here."
Around midmorning she came to a stream, there she stopped a few minutes to drink and fill her water skin, and to let Pinecone drink and rest. A few hours later she came across a very late black berry bush and decided to conserve the food in her packs by making a meal of the berries. While she was eating she had a few crazy thoughts about living off the land; nuts, mushrooms, berries and whatnot, maybe even fish. Then she shook her head, she had never had much camping experience.
At sunset she stopped in a likely looking clearing, made a fire, brushed her horse, spread out her blankets and ate. Then she lay down on her side, listening to the crackling fire and Pinecone's chewing, as she fell asleep tired and satisfied.
Over the next two days Stella felt more rested and picked up her pace. Other than a lack of giant monsters they were quite similar to the previous day. Stella loved them, she loved waking up in the morning and not knowing where she would sleep that night. This was what she had imagined. The weather was ideal, and Pinecone was lively.
Then, on the afternoon of the third day, her food ran out. She had seen it coming but had tried to ignore it. She looked hopefully at the increased signs of civilization; maybe she could beg or wash dishes for a meal. I can get through this, she told herself, I'll be okay. Just as she completed that thought it became to rain. Stella scowled at the sky. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. Stella humbly reached into her bag for her cloak.
The afternoon got older and the sky got darker. Stella began trying to follow wagon wheel marks to a village but lost them in the mud. Then, she began to feel helpless, exposed, and vulnerable; not to mention lonely.
All at once a branch cracked loudly, she jumped, suddenly startled. Pinecone spooked and ran off the trail. Stella plastered herself to his neck and duck under the branches, tugging on the reigns until he stopped. She tried to turn him around and go back but she had somehow lost the path. She frowned puzzled. She thought she heard the stream. She urged Pinecone towards the noise. They just got more lost.
Lightening danced through the sky. Stella swallowed. Okay, she thought, I'm scared.
Then a voice floated through the trees, "never you fret child, old Heather is here."