It had been a long gallop along a stone riddled path, he was glad that day he had given the horse newly polished iron shoes. He was resting on a patch of grass, it was dry but had a modicum of moisture that made it feel wet under his coarse fibre trousers. He fingered his straw hat, feeling the fibres before placing it to conceal his eyes to avoid the blinding sun. He closed his eyes gently shut, welcoming the redish-black that seemed to obscure his vision. He fondled a brass ring in his pocket for a few dozen seconds, thinking he could feel with his thumb the image made of bumps and ridges: a wave cresting to meet the advance of a seabird. Like rough cliff edges he remembered his grandfather’s face, he had a quote that always intrigued Aedred: “We are like gulls on the sea boy, we never are on it forever.” Aedred for the rest of the day rode at a steady and reassuring pace, vague worries had started to enter his mind; he had minimal rations. Yet he had five days to hunt and scavenge, he was yearning for luck, an animal wondering onto his path, a grove of berry bushes that could save him a nights rations. He then set his mind on the fort ahead of him, it was mentioned by most to be wooden and precarious. An outpost given the name, “fort” as a diversion for the enemy, and inconsequential point of attention for them. He was a few nights away from the fort, he had travelled from dunes, to bleak desert, to desert with shrubbery, to hot prairies, to wide and expansive greener grassland, to warm meadowland, to temperate intermingled expanses of meadows and forest, to cool hilly regions filled with oaks rather than leggy trees, to countless pines. He had killed countless animals and butchered their carcasses, he had lodged in many holdings and settlements, he had learned multitudes. He thought as though he had a more comprehensive view of the world, uncovered more of it, had a massively fuller view rather than merely learnt knowledge. He developed a deep tan that had made his skin look sienna, startlingly different from his previous ochre complexion. His sandy hair was a vole’s combination of various shades of blonde, ranging from a medium blonde to unusual streaks of a light brown. His skin now regressed to a pale off-white and his hair reverted to a sandy hue. He steered his mind away from this mental ramble, “I’ll concentrate on the ramble in front of me.” Aedred knew that the fort was just a step on his perignation garnished with minor hardships. His hands clasped the reigns tightly and infront of him framed near perfectly in his vision an un-observant dear now gazed up at him with miserable eyes, Aedgar’s hand clasped his pistol, the doe tried to dart swiftly into the trees, but as its upper legs were suspended in the air it came to a dreadful holt. Aedgar with out any utterance of though reach for his rifle, dismounted, and slung the light doe carcass over his horse’s back. Departing from that location Aedgar continued on, this time at a gallop. He was disconcerted from the doe, it seemed slightly dopey, lacking a deer’s typical nimbleness; he found this ample reason to check for markers of disease on the doe. He surveyed the carcass before carrying on at a gallop, a rising sense of urgency crept over him, embedding itself in his stomach; more of a reason to feed his mind’s quest to complete this section of the arduous perignation. He felt a rising aching in his legs, a dull pain that permeated from the underside of his knees to his calves. He found this pain peculiarly similar to when he used to go walking ridiculous distances in the fields and cops of his homeland, and then his mind was disconnected from this observation and as he felt a new pain arise. A pain in his arms, specifically his shoulders. Similar to the pain felt after he ran long distances, swinging his arms wildly as his legs darted along the loose ground of the fields. A faint lightness consumed his skull, and his lungs now pulsed with exhaustion as he tried to regain a semblance of breath. He felt all the symptoms of the effects after long, tireless running, exhaustion steadily overwhelmed him. He had to eventually relent and halt his horse, he let it graze on the dark grass underneath him. His hand shuffled through his pocket until he found his butchering knife and then started skinning the animal, turning it into a carcass. That night he ate ribs, and when he was picking a morsel of meat of one of the ribs Aedred saw a further disconcerting sight, he saw an exeedingly peculiar sight. Standing near the area of illumination by the fire was his horse, eating grass, and its movements seemed somber at that moment. It then sat on the ground, it rested its head against the Pthalo tuft of grass that rested on the rock and dozed. Aedred’s mind longed for literature, a consuming tale to guide his mind away from the un-pleasurable bizarreness that characterised this stage of the journey, his hand inexplicably reached for the small pouch of tobacco concealed in his pocket. After that night he had rode furiously without vigour but a desperate urge to depart from this stretch of land, he urged his mind into alertness and then concentrated on the trail silently speeding past him; another peculiarity, his horse’s hooves were silent, even though they should have resounded thunderously on the parched ground. He finally saw infront of him a figure immersed in a meadow shadowed by trees along it’s perimeter. The figure had a kind of dark French grey jacket that hung like a robe on his thin figure, a felt hat of the same hue rested on his head, his features were indiscernible until Aedred rode only a few paces away from him. He could now see the figure had a heavy brow, a pale face that contrasted subtly against his overcoat and black hair that hung raggedly against his sallow forehead, he had thick hair. He stood rigidly on the ground, an even more unusual feature of his was the blank, mellow yet still intelligent face he possessed. His body language didn’t change as he spoke: “You came from the trail behind you, you look weary. Go ahead a few more miles. I’ll check nothings followed you.” He was well spoken, he had a mild, neutral voice, though it was diluted by a mellow accent of the Mid-Northwestern Colonisers. He walked slowly past Aedred and turned to look up at him. A hint of respect was in his voice, “You carry on a few miles, don’t drag your hooves. You’ll find a wooden structure ahead, a wooden fort you can’t miss it if you steer clear of the woods and follow the string of clearings upstream.” With that the man departed down the steady slope of leggy weeds behind him and Aedred galloped away out of the man’s view. Aedred slowly wondered through the stretches of clearings eyeing the delicate flowers that seemed to rest like gentke dew drops balancing gracefully and airily on the dull green strands of grass that tendriled out the earth. He rode like this in quiet contemplation of the meadow below him until he found himself treading dreamily through the last clearing, a meadow not as wide as the previous clearings but at its far end containing a wooden fortress housing a settlement, around the size of a village centre or a compact hamlet. This fort was shielded on its rear by a steep slope formed by two hillocks that travelled from the main hills either side of the valley which houses numerous clearings. A path wound its way up that near vertical slope, from Aedred’s view it seamed as if the hillock was thin and only wide enough for around ten trees to grow on its summit. He approached the settlement and stretched himself forward to comfort his horse, he looked whilst doing this intently focusing on the small watchtower that stood before him. A head of medium grey, almost graphite hair interspersed with streaks of white met his vision and soon a face was staring at him curiously from the barricade. They had light brown skin almost the same hue as their clear, sharp eyes the colour of a dull brown almost transitioning into grey. She still stared sharply at him, waiting for him to speak. Her mouth was a rigid line and her brow was slight cowled, an omnipresent tension pervaded through her body. He in subconscious response to this he straightened himself and tugged at the reigns of his horse slightly straightening it to directly and fixedly face towards her. He spoke formally: “Will allow us, me and my mount permission to stay here?” She hesitated for a second, her eyes glazed over momentarily. “Yes, come in. Food and shelter wait for your here.” She looked behind him, turning her stiff face to peer slightly past him, towards the region of the meadow that was encroached by the trees. Aedred turned, he saw a thin, misty grey haze lingering at the edge of the meadow like stray smoke. Rather than remaining or dissipating it drew back into the trees slowly, it almost had a sentience to it, though this was due to its mannerisms and the peculiar shapes and forms the wind makes after blowing through this valley and its fringing trees. He turned quickly, to find the unusual look on her face had returned, her brow was deeply furrowed. He advanced with his horse, prompting her to draw back the gates using a rope system somewhere above him that audibly strained with tension. He rode his horse in and was subsequently directed to his accomidation, which was in the center of this walled hamlet. It was constructed of wood, varnished or coated with a type of preserving dried tar that gave the hut a look of charcoal. The night passed and he ate a flavourful stew before lying his head on the bed of bed of straw encased in a wooden frame presented to him. It was in the peacefulness of dusk transitioning into night a commotion was heard. He stepped into the muddy and ploughed center to view this event; the man who had directed him was stood talking to a large crowd with a subtle, worried expression on his face, his pale skin appeared weirdly luminous and ethereal. He couldn’t make out the complexities of his features in the shading dusk. He spoke in a slightly harrowed voice, “It followed him, that thing out there.” Suddenly alert of his presence this man faces him, he appeared frailer, “We’re you tired at all? Were you? That things eats its prey through exhaustion, through making a man remember his past toils.” He then took a relieved step backwards and grinned, “your lucky, a night longer and it would have consumed you. I saw your past encampment, from last night I presume. A smoke was near it, a haze. I was lucky, your were lucky.” The day after Aedred continued his perignation, lodging his horse at the fort. It was customary to walk the final path on foot. He wasn’t shook from the night before, he had experienced many phenomena. He continued, a strong and sturdy vitality spreading through him for the last arduous journey.