Every time the tree or bushes rustled, Morgan's hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword as he looked about warily. Not knowing what dangers could be around any and every corner put him on edge. Two of the others had joined them on their path towards the river and the village. Morgan said not a word to any of them while they trudged along, preffering the company of his own thoughts for the moment. When the river was finally directly in front of them, he looked somewhat dismayed. There was no way for him to cross that, especially with his armor. A sharp whistle demanded his attention, and he turned his head to regard the old man with his feet in the water.

[color=silver]"What, exactly, is a 'hoop'?"[/color] Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow. Obviously it was some form of currency, but none he had ever heard of.