At the crack of dawn, a cock crowed from below in the market place, announcing the start of a new day. Warik turned miserably on the tiny bed, the abused mattress sagging under his weight. He had already secretly repaired the legs of the bed, having splintered them his first night in the bunkhouse. "Aaah. Moonshade Outpost. Catering to witches, dwarves, and other assorted hot-heads," he thought to himself, dragging a calloused palm over his tired eyes. "This has got to stop."
Less than an hour later, with a relatively full belly, he left the bunkhouse feeling irritable. The small beds and low beams of the dormitory, the constant comings and goings, the lack of privacy—it was enough to drive a man mad for lack of sleep. Not to mention the ever-watchful presence of the outpost's stalwart captain, Arboneth Koning, with her perverse sense of justice. Was she ever a thorn in his side!
At the stables, he saddled Chota, his loyal yarnosaur, and rode north into the hills, keeping a steady gait through the thickening woodlands. After just over an hour's ride, they came to a fork in the path, split by an enormous boulder. Warik chose to go east at this point, following the morning sun. Up they climbed for another twenty minutes or so, the sound of trickling water becoming louder as they rode, until, just over a rise, the mountainside flattened out and the mist sparkled over a small lake in the midday light.
Warik took a deep breath, his lungs filling with crisp mountain air. He dismounted, clapped the furry beast's rump, and chuckled, "Chota my friend, welcome home." (Being of a very relaxed temperament, Chota didn't even flinch, instead lowering his head to munch at the grassy patches.) The water was crystal clear, filtered by the rocks it came from. Fish darted here and there, occasionally springing up to catch a dragonfly hovering too close to the surface. He spent another hour exploring every tree and every rock, pleased to discover claw marks—proof of large game. "And where there is large game," he told no one in particular, "there is most assuredly small game."
"Yes," he thought, satisfied with his day's findings. "This will be the perfect spot. Out of Koning's jurisdiction; fish, game, and fresh water aplenty; and a clear view of anyone approaching." Warik nodded to himself, his blood humming with excitement. He would clear the land and build himself a small cabin right there on that incline, where he would have easy access to the outpost, yet have his own space away from prying eyes.
Early afternoon shadows began to reach their dark fingers between the dense foliage overhead—dusk came early to the mountains. He whistled for Chota, as his stomach rumbled. With a bit of luck, rooster would be on the menu tonight.
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