The Thoughts of a Wanderer (1 Viewer)

Rangere1

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As he drags away the remains of the branches that had blocked the road, the wanderer pauses for a moment to wave at the wagon as it starts off again, passing by on the now clear dirt path and disappearing around a bend further up. With a sigh he drops the branches onto a larger pile and pulls a hand axe from one of the logs, wiping a bit of sap from it and returning the tool to his pack, instead pulling out a few pieces of jerky wrapped in a cloth. Taking a seat on the grass with his back to one of the many trees scattered along the side of the road, the wanderer looks up towards the cloudy sky for a moment just in time to see a flock of geese pass overhead.

Only a few weeks ago he’d first landed on this continent, and in that time he’d visited two different countries and made a friend. It’d been some time since he’d last had a friend, well hopefully it wouldn’t stop at just friends here. He smiles a bit at the thought, tapping a piece of jerky lightly against his hand for a moment before taking a bite. The meat itself was still rather fresh, what remained of a mountain goat he’d caught not long after he first arrived.

After he finishes off the piece of jerky, the wanderer sniffs at the air for a moment. The wind had changed, and with it carried the scent of rain. That brought a frown to his lips, he’d need to find somewhere sheltered quickly, unless he wanted to spend the night soaked. With a groan he pushes himself to his feet once again, dusting off his pants before reaching over to pick up his pack and shrug it back over his shoulders. Pausing as he passes by the pile of branches, he picks out one of the longer and sturdier ones, testing it for a moment before he starts down the road, following in the direction the wagon had gone.
 

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