[center][color=ff9900][b]Vathalar[/b][/color]
[i]The road to Eamonvale[/i][/center]

Vathalar's gray eyes squinted as he looked up highly into the sky. He was stretching out his palm almost towards the zenith in order to shield his view from the sun, meaning that time had reached midday. His pupils seemed to ache as he looked back down onto the road ahead again, but the small sigh was actually by something else. One could easily think that traveling alone was guaranteed to be exciting, sometimes even frightening, but at least interesting. What the young male truly felt these hours however was quite the opposite: excessive boredom.

If more coins had been available to him Vathalar probably would have succumbed to his newborn urge to distract himself from irritating memories and unwanted transformations with pleasure, but the only thing his hand could find in his pockets was rather worn-out, not so clean cloth. What he had left would be needed for the most essential tasks: Keeping his stomach halfway filled, getting fresh water and maybe even grant his horse something better to eat than what grew at the side of the road. The tired animal had started to groan under his weight in full spite of the fact that the latter was average for his size at most.

He started to dig below his thigh, into one of the saddlebags where he had stored some meat. Disgust was written on his face as he pulled out the portion. What was this ? The broken half of a deer's leg ? And those ludicrously large bite marks on it! Well he was perfectly aware of where they came from and eating those leftover pieces first had become a rule -- not only to prevent them from rotting, but also to prevent any onlookers from becoming suspicious.

Vathalar pulled a few strands of messed up hair out of his face, then took the first bite. Had pure, uncooked flesh always tasted so well for him ? His old life had ended so long ago that those memories had started to fade, too. Another bite and, deep inside him, it felt almost as if more than one conscience was satisfied. Soon the entire piece was consumed and his otherwise flat belly was bulging slightly.

The road had been going on and on and on for hours. Vathalar had gone around Bradle's Worth, but still he had not seen anyone traveling alone here. Frankly speaking he hardly had an idea about where precisely this path was going anyway, as long as it was headed roughly towards Eamonvale he'd be fine. Now however there was a change... A faint scent, a mighty beast sweating as it was doing work. A draft horse ? No... he had learned to distinguish between those and this wasn't any kind of match at all. It was more like... an oxen. A peasant's cart maybe ? Wouldn't be unplausible given that they were working all around him in the fields.

Anyway. At his present speed he'd either catch up to it or not reach it at all. He couldn't afford to go much faster without paying for it sooner or later. A quarter of an hour later and much to his delight it turned out that he was in luck: Wheel tracks! A subtle smile rushed over his face, the first in days. Now Vathalar couldn't resist to gently pull at the reigns. How nice it would be to have a seat, even if it was one of bare wood! And the possibility to talk to other people, maybe even profit from their warmth both physically and metaphorically. And what if there were bandits on the road ? On his own the choices for self-defense were rather terrible...

It took him another while, but ultimately he was approaching the cart in question from behind. From his position he couldn't see who was in there, but a little bit of waving and shouting wouldn't hurt.

"Hey! Stop, please!"