The sun pierced lightly through the branches in patchy places, like that of spotlights upon a stage, and the shade of the leaf trees was welcoming to him not just in body, but also in mind. He had not seen many forests in the past weeks, and the gentle, crisp snap of the branches and leaves sounded to him different than any he had heard before. Perhaps it had been so long? That he had forgotten the sounds of the forest in the wind? No, he thought; but to him it felt so. Even the sounds of his boots upon the ground was seemingly new and unfamiliar to him, twigs and leaves and moist, rich soil crunching and flicking and twisting under his rhythmic steps.

The road had, sometime ago, changed from such dirt and leaf covered ground to that of one paved with large, smooth cobble stones; here and there were also pieces of dark fencing built along the way, typically where the road slightly bent or weaved around wide trees that seemed less tiresome to go around that cut down. These fences, he knew, also signaled to carts coming and going the sharp turns and changes in direction that came when such large, thick leafed trees came to block the linear path of the road, which occurred many more times than he would have thought. There were also walls built of stones, now mossy and often crumbling, that were little under waist height for him, but would serve well to keep ponies from wandering too far away from the road, and keep animals and other small critters of the woods away.

Out of the plains from the farm he had visited it took him only a few hours to reach the treeline towards Feltlocke, and even then he had to camp for a little while to rest his aching feet. But, despite this little detour in time, he had made it into the woodlands before noon, and even now as he moved through the winding road here, he almost felt that the day would last forever. But, much to his disliking, nighttime did come with twilight, and he found that there were not many places here to camp that weren't littered with overgrowth or packed full with tree trunks. He did eventually find a rather open area, though he did have to stray from the path a bit, a ten minute walk.

He brought out his regenerating log and set it alight around a few stones he had found, and kept close to it. He ate as he usually had, this time a can of spinach which he sprinkled just a bit of salt into, and cleaned off his utensils with a bit of water from his canteen. It was not particularly cold out here. If anything, he felt the air starting to feel much drier than he had felt it in a long time, and there was a moderate warmth in the forest also. He didn’t really know why, be it for reasons of science or magic.

He spent a while up against a tree, listening into the sounds of the forest. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and he found himself reminiscing about days long past. The sounds of laughter, the roar of engines, the thundering of rain clouds, and voices...cheery and soft and playful even...he felt his lower jaw moving by itself, as he looked on at the darkness that surrounded the pale light of the fire. He did not sleep well that night either.

The next morning he was back on the road again. After some time of travel he was met by his first contact on the road since High Sky. A pony, one of red fur and a blonde mane, pulled his cart down the road towards him. The cart was covered, and in the back he could see a mare, and a young foal sitting upon it’s driving bench. They noticed him down the road sometime ago, evidenced by the red stallions millisecond of hesitation, but a short scolding from the older mare set them back on their brisk pace. The man gave a small wave of the hand as they closed the distance, “Howdy.” He said to them.

The red stallion nodded to him, though it was the mare who spoke first, “Howdy to you too.” She answered. He could tell now from here that she was older, though not so old to be called elder, and of blue fur and with a gleaming dirty blonde mane. The foal had retreated under the mare’s arm, it’s face hidden, though just from the body shape alone the man could tell it was a young filly.

“I hate to stop you, but do you kind people know how long it is to Feltlocke from here?” The man asked them.

The mare answered again, “Oh, just some four miles or so.” She looked the man up and down, “What brings such a...strange young lad out here?”

The man shrugged the large pack on his back, “Just trying to sell some goods to the honest folk, ma’am.”

The large red stallion cocked a brow to that, but the mare nodded, “I see.” Was all she said, and there was a silent few seconds between the two parties.

He stood there for another moment, but sensing the air getting heavy, he tipped his hat, “Well, I’ll let you fine folks off then.”

The mare nodded in thanks as the red stallion pulled along his burden. The man looked on at them as they went, and adjusted the hat upon his head. He had a good feeling who they were, the family of that farmer he had met before, Mister Mer. He had a few questions he would have very much liked to ask his wife, though it wasn’t his place to keep them any longer, and he had already sold many goods to her husband. Watching them a few more moments he turned and kept along as he had, suppressing a few weary thoughts. He wasn’t keeping a schedule or anything, but he did want to reach Feltlocke before the day’s end. Camping here one more night was not something he wished to do.

He had a run in with another merchant along the road, and had bartered with the stallion over a few goods. The stallion, as the man was told, was taking a couple of cases of apple cider from the orchards to the east all the way to Tale Tale, and was hoping to get paid a great sum for his wagon. He had a small escort with him, a pegasus and two other earth ponies, both his cousins he had said, the pegasus was a hired blade. They had exchanged a few things: to the man was sold a few extra bottles of cider that had lost their cases, and to the stallion he had sold a few simple goods, including a bottle of horse shoe grease, “For when you get up into the mountains.” The man had said.

Surprisingly, the merchant’s escort had also been interested in his petty wares. The two earth ponies had also purchased some extra grease, and the pegasus had bought a ribbon as High Sky had, though he spooled it around his spear rather than tie the ribbon to his wings. The man has also been questioned on his origin (as was the norm with strangers), and destination, to which he had responded with simple answers. “I’m from the North.” He had said to them, “Just peddling my wares, is all.” They had left him at that, and continued along their way.

He had to admit, despite the looks ponies gave him, be they of fear or curiosity, he was quite glad to be around them again. They were pleasant creatures, and he had found great comfort in their company more often than not. Gryphons he had encountered before, and they were alot like humans in a way. They ate meat and fish, were typically of a warrior type and often driven by morbid curiosity or lust for wealth. But they were quite often, surprisingly, introverted, and not very social, at least not in the ways ponies were. He had seen a minotaur once, though a con man he was that spoke in the third person, and he found that buff bull soon driven out by the local populace, though that was a story for another time.

After much time walking, he had slowly drifted into the outskirts of civilization. Here and there were cabins built along the road in the forest some ways away, and more ponies were occupying the road now, walking along into town as he had or already coming back from their morning errands. The looks he got didn’t bother him. Over to his right he saw a small white painted sign along the side of the road, “Our little Feltlocke.” It read. He couldn’t help but give a little smile.

Author's Note

A bit of a short chapter this week, but a chapter none-the-less.

As always feedback is appreciated, be it good, bad, or ugly, it's what keeps me going!