"Yes, a cheese sandwich sounds just right for an appetizer to…" He sniffed the air, twice. "To a bowl of vegetable soup."
"Sounds good to me, too, buddy," Tarl said, smiling. "I’ll have them ready in a jiffy."
He carefully removed the cloth wrapped loaf of bread from the carryall and placed it before him, unwrapped the cloth to make a work area. Next, he pulled out the red wax covered cheese, placing it beside the bread. A moment passed. His eyes went from the bread to the cheese and back again, and back again. His hands patted his pockets, did so again and again. And he blushed with the realization of the one thing he forgot to pack.
"Does anyone have a kni—" he started to ask.
In the wink of an eye, Sharna drew a dagger from her boot and offered it to him.
"—knife?" he gulped, bulging eyes on the well honed blade held in palm, its ivory handle at the tip of his nose.
What he desperately wanted at that moment was a long pull on the bottle of spirits he had brought. Instead, he uttered a barely audible thanks, took the dagger in a shaky hand, wiped it off with a corner of the towel and began to make the sandwiches.
Orlon was experiencing something he had never experienced before. He was stuffed! Two cheese sandwiches and a healthy bowl of Roxx’s vegetable soup were the culprits. While he found it a better feeling than an empty stomach, it was not the best of feelings. He subdued a belch and rubbed his bloated belly, and decided he needed to do something to alleviate the problem. And he knew exactly what he needed to do.
"I," he said, getting to his feet, "am going to take a little walk."
Concern clouded Sharna’s face. "Is something wrong?" she said.
"Nothing beyond I over ate," he patted his stomach.
"I’m not sure—" she said.
"Don’t worry," Tarl interrupted her, bringing himself to his feet. "I’ll keep an eye on him."
She acquiesced with a bob of her head.
With Tarl at his side, Orlon strolled just beyond the Party and began walking back and forth at a distance of twenty feet between turns. To his relief, Tarl was not in a talkative mood. There was no doubt what he would want to talk about—his choice of the path—and he was not in the mood for that. So the walk was done in silence.
The exercise was having minimal effect on his discomfort, and he realized the continued quest would do him much good.
He made a turn in his walk and stopped, Tarl stumbling to a stop a step ahead. But he did not even notice him, his attention focused on the sun. By its position in the sky he gauged lunch had taken a little over an hour and a half, which meant they had at least five hours of daylight left. That Ty the Parson would let any more time escape them was unthinkable, and he turned his attention to him, finding the Parson standing not far away, eyes darting from the sun to the lazying Party to the forest and back again and back again… The Midget frowned.
"The law examines every angle of a case! A stone dropped into a lake! I, Ty, the Parson, have considered our options for further journeying this day," Ty the Parson said in a flail of limbs. "The burning orb sinks rapidly toward dusk. We will make camp and rest for the night, and cross the forest tomorrow. Early, our quest will resume. At the crack of dawn."
Orlon gave him a double-take. He wiggled a finger in each ear to make sure they were working right. With so much daylight left, why would he call for camp to be made now? But before he could reason out an answer to that question Tarl whispered to him:
"Can you believe this guy? We must hurry, hurry, hurry, he says. Time is short, he tells us. Disaster awaits us if we delay, he says. Over and over and over he spouts this to us. And now he calls for us to make camp—in the middle of the afternoon!" He sighed. "And to think I was beginning to take him seriously…. This guy must be a nut."
Hearing his best friend admit he was beginning to believe in this quest brightened his heart. To hear he doubted again made him determined to find out why they were stopping for the day. He turned to ask Ty the Parson pointblank, only to let his jaw drop at what he saw. The Parson sat cross-legged where he had stood, hood donned, staff across knees and arms straight down on both sides, palms flat on the ground. He was asleep.
Disappointed to find this avenue of enlightenment closed, he frowned, and he turned to the forest, eyes drawn to the narrow slit in tree wall allowing entrance to its dark depths. Into his mind appeared the thorn bush bordered path, and he thought he understood why. He looked at the sun, then the forest as a whole, thought of the numerous stories of its evilness, and nodded. Yes, he understood the reason indeed.
"Tell me," he turned to Tarl. "Do you have any idea how big Dark Forest is?"
"N-no," Tarl said, dumbfounded.
"Did you ever consider the fact the forest might be so big we couldn’t cross it in the time left to us today, and Ty the Parson knows it?"
"N-no."
Orlon planted his fists on hips. "I don’t know about you," he said, "but I certainly wouldn’t want to get caught in that forest at night, facing whatever creepy crawlies that inhabit it. It would be—will be much safer spending the night in this field, don’t you think?"
"Y-yes," Tarl admitted. "I guess I just didn’t think it through."
And hate it though he did he had to admit to himself his best friend, naïve as he was, had outwitted him on this one, which meant he did not want to discuss it further. He turned his attention to the Party. Those he saw had retrieved sleep mats from their supply bundles and were preparing for the night. He inwardly smiled at the easy opportunity this allowed him to change the subject.
"I wish I’d've thought ahead enough to pack for a campout," he said.
"Hey, neither of us thought we’d be gone passed noon, remember?" Orlon said. "I’m sure we can survive sleeping one night outdoors, even if we have a cold snap like last night… My only concern is for Jujay. He’s not a young man anymore."
"Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about him," Tarl thumbed in the servant’s direction.
Orlon looked to see Jujay lying where he had settled after being stripped of his burden. He smiled. The servant was curled up like a feline and by all evidence sleeping peacefully.
"You must remember," Tarl went on, "he’s had a lot more experience with this sort of thing than you or I."
There was no denying what his best friend said was true. Orlon remembered well the "stories" of adventure Jujay used to tell him as a child on those rare occasions he was bored. He remembered the excitement of them, the servant’s excitement in telling them—and even to a child’s perception he remembered the faraway look in Jujay’s eyes, the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth that told him these were more than just made-up stories.
"Hey, I got it," Tarl said, raising a finger. "We could always walk home, get a good night’s rest in our beds and return in the morning."
Orlon turned to look at the farm community they had left this morning, a finger coming to rest on his chin. They had walked a fair distance, his farmhouse being on the community’s far side, and the walk back would certainly help relieve his stuffed feeling. Thought of sleeping in his own bed sure sounded more comfortable than a night on the hard ground, exposed to the weather. It was very tempting to say yes to the suggestion, but…
"I don’t think it’s a good idea," he said. "I mean, what if we didn’t get up in time and they had to come fetch us. Then we’d be right back here the same time tomorrow afternoon, camping out for the night so we could get an early start in the morning to cross Dark Forest. Considering how Ty the Parson presses us to hurry, it wouldn’t be good to lose a whole day, would it?"