The Traveler

Meal devoured, and helping himself to another cup of tea, it is during the time of doing so that she burps unexpectedly. Togetherness is hard to find these days. That, hey, how was your day, so missed that he forces himself to check his emotional side. Focusing on what lies ahead, he knows evil has a way of ruining the stability of what thought a good time. Picturing the alchemist seated amongst those with a decayed heart, surely those caged, are wishing for death. With this saturating his mind, he catches her looking. Their eyes lock briefly until Chester walks up and nuzzles her. Making light of the situation, he has another sip of tea that nourishes the thought of her and her mule being under his thumb. What pops up first, is surviving while all the while, looking down to her lifeless body. Of the mule lovingly named Chester whose instincts tell the beast to run.

Along the lines of picturing all of this happening, he tells her. “How about I make a trade for those pickled eggs first.” Reading the reaction in her eyes, sees each are full of venom and staying steadfast to his word, she goes to poking a stick at the glowing coals as her slumped over shoulders tell of the weight carried. She wants it all at once, and careful in how he looks at things, the bigger picture is not causing a ripple that tells of him being so close. He could speak his mind in saying such but instead, gets up and moves a short distance away in leaving her company. Finding solitude, sleep comes under a blanket of stars.