Seeing that it could only be eleven in the morning, he took a deep breath and went back to his small tent, hiding what he could and taking what he could not. It had not rained or snowed since he was escaped so his bottles were empty and he hid them behind the broom with a few other stray items. He kept what he could in his satchel, two decks of cards, three books, twine, all his notebooks, a half stack of notebook paper, and his throwing knife. He left his sword and decided against keeping his throwing knife on his waist. He folded up the tarp and returned it to its rightful place, though he held onto the boots reluctantly. He folded the table as well, leaning it against the wall to further hide what he had not taken.
Deciding this must be good enough and with his guitar on his back and his satchel at his side, he nodded once at his camp solemnly before departing. He breathed in the air deeply and headed towards the main road with Bast behind him as he scaled the fence. She hopped through a gap and trailed him to the last gate where she meowed at him and sat, swishing her tail. He urged her on, unwilling to leave his friend, but she only blinked at him. Swallowing the lump in his throat and sighing with resign, he bid her farewell with a tip of an imaginary hat, promising to return, and set off on his companionless journey with a heavy heart, looking at his compass in comparison to the road signs.
YOU ARE READING
A Trek of A Storyteller
AdventureThe second part in my trilogy of the young boy. A Tale From Before is the first, and now that our young Storyteller is freed of his captor, he has the whole world to explore. At long last, he is able to settle into a life that erases his past from h...
