It was pleasant to wake up in such a lovely spot. I couldn’t help smiling, although my stomach gurgled and hissed at me for being so empty. Again, I lay down at the brook, washed my face and drank all the cold water my stomach could hold. It was no happier full of ice water, but I promised it I’d nibble on some of the cheese I’d brought.
Frey was happily gorging on grass, completely contented to be out in the fresh air. His needs were simple, although I hated to have to explain that there would be no more apples and carrots. At least, not for a while.
When I hefted up the saddle and secured it on him, Frey stood ready. He never argued about being tacked up, and even though he’d probably be happy to remain at the grassy site, he was as eager as I was to journey on. He liked seeing new things, and we’d never done that before.
I returned us to the path we’d been following and continued on, my eyes searching for fruit or nut trees, berry bushes, or signs of wild carrots and other root vegetables. There might have been fish in the brook where we’d stopped, but I never ate meat. I would never ask a creature to give up its life for me. Even eggs were something I felt guilty for eating. I would not be robbing a bird’s nest for breakfast.
The woods we were passing through were quiet except for the constant bird song. No other travelers seemed to be journeying on the road that day, which was a good thing because I’d been told that strangers were sometimes dangerous.