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The dry wind began to pick up, kicking up whirling columns of dust into the pilgrims eyes.
The blue moon had past, the crown handed over, new monarchs sat in the kingdom halls.
An empty castle keep had become normal during the last reign. The previous occupant had no need for frivolous luxuries. The staff had become accustomed to the barking demands of previous monarchs.
It had grown too quiet.
The Alician uprising had been quelled, as with every other rebellion that did not eventually take the crown.
He stood on the slopping peak and watched as small bands of locals wove and darted through deep forest line.
Those destined to the western temples walked uninterrupted by the fresh activity in the woods of Mourningwood Glen. Even with dust in their eyes, they could see with their hearts.
The gathering of the faiths was taking place in less than two weeks, and the their travels had just begun.
"A chicken.", mumbled the native guide.
"What?"
"The priestess requires a chicken..." replied the annoyed man. He had seen many travelers come through these lands. He had grown accustomed to the prejudice and snide remarks from the outlanders.
Mourningwood Glen was once a strong and proud duchy. Recent activity had begun to strengthen the population again. But for how long.
"Can't they find it in market?" asked an amusingly confused Sutra.
"No, not this kind of chicken."
"Hmmm, right. Course not..."
"The woods have always harbored all types of mons..."
A shrill cry of pain echoed through the forest canopy. Dashing birds from the trees caught the archers attention.
Shouts and roars barely reached their ears, followed by silence.
The two men looked at each other with stoic expressions.
"As I was saying...the forest had a sorted variety of...wildlife..."
"Riiiiggghhhtt..."
The awkward silence began to weigh as moments ticked by.
"A chicken then?"
"Yeah..."
Gripping his small pack slung over his shoulder, he shrugged and thanked the aged man for his helpful information.
Scanning the forest line one more time, he turned and joined the sporadic line of the faithful all heading towards the setting sun.
S
[con't]
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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu
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