Traveler

Being on the lookout for any life as far as critters go, she draws him in by saying, “Usually Chester makes a fuss about having a stranger around. Gets me to wondering about you.”

She wants it all at once and in instead of pouring out such a life had, he gives enough to sooth her curious ear. “I am nothing more but a hired hand.”

The expression on her face goes with what she says to him. “He had a horse and a covered wagon, that man.” Her eyes fall off his, and after a long second gone by, she gives him a side look that offers the opportunity to ask her, “And the fairgrounds?”

Away from her side is her arm leveling out that has her saying to him, “That curve up ahead bends into Walker pass that takes one straight to the fair.”

Close now, he thinks, and in keeping in stride with the clopping hooves of Chester, there is no talk between the two. As it stands, the alchemist or, that man, as she calls him, it is the worth of his trade that holds the possibility of landing a horse. Wild and untamed, what potion will the alchemist use tickles his mind even after the grove of pine is now behind them.

Grumbling is his stomach in its want, and yet to add fuel to his body, he pays attention to the sun about to fall to the other side. Flat, and open is the field and without regard, he puts his hand up. “Wait.” She stops, but the look in her eyes wants an answer.

“We need to make camp.”  Taking a half step back, and after reading her face, he says to her, “I am not him.” Once said, he leaves her side.

Quiet in his walkabout, seats a marble, and lets it fly. A walking bird always has its mate nearby and unmoving in his stance, soon after, he lets loose another marble that strikes the side of the mate’s head.

A scene from Romeo and Juliette plays in his head while carrying the two carcasses to a nearby stream. Cleaned, he walks upstream before he stoops to fill his water bladder. On his way back to where he left her, the scent of a fire has him looking out to the roundabout that has him seeing Chester out grazing.

In turn, he holds up his kill for her to see as she in turn, shows off a handful of greens.

Together, they help each other prepare their meal and in the process of doing so, she says to him. “This man you are after, is no friend of mine.” She leaves his eyes by staring at the fire licking its flames all over the skewered meat.

There is no picture of the man he is following.

She, on the other hand, holds an intricate piece to the puzzle by knowing the alchemist’s face. How she knows is not talked about.