So Much Depended On The Wagon.

Hello friends!

As I continue the ongoing tale, I have found the support from this community for the passing of a loved one an unexpected comfort.

I would also like to thank my beloved for  another photo worthy breakfast this morning! Thank you beloved, it was delicious!

No recipe. Made with love.

Oh, and lunch was amazing as well! Rye grilled cheese and jalapeno tomato soup!

Me Gusta!

Now,the story. 

(The Storyteller prepares, getting in character.)

Hmm. How would Beast think?

( If you ever want to talk to a character, leave them a comment and they may get back to you! This makes the storyline relevant to my readers as they become part of the story!)

Today’s story is inspired By 

Michael Stephen Wills Photography.

His website is definitely worth a look. He is skilled at capturing landscapes that are worthy of a magazine cover.

……..

As Jeptha Berengar made his way through the forest, he noticed the little things. 

The tracks of a rabbit, the scratch marks of turkeys, the song of a finch in the distance. He could smell the scent of the various trees. 

Beast’s woodsman like gait felt light and springy and he decided to take his shoes off for a bit. 

His shoes made him walk on his heels first and it hurt after a while. He preferred stepping with the balls of his feet.

Perhaps he would make shoes like the Heron. They were better suited for him. Leather bottoms wore out fast, but you could feel the earth beneath and walk quietly.

He thought about home. Where was home?

He looked west to the mountains.

The Mountains

 They were covered in snow and full of mystery.

What was in them? 

What was on the other side? 

Jeptha stopped to catch his breath. The elevation was gradually increasing.

Opening his bag, he pulled out some pequin jerky. 

The forest was still. He watched some deer feeding. Venison was not his preferred fare; his appetite was for predator meat. 

His keen eyes saw a wheeled cart with a broken wheel in a meadow.

So much depended on a wagon. It was the lifeline of a traveller.

Curiosity drew him to the cart, and he warily circled it. It was old and the owners were long gone.

The cart contained furniture. A broken rocking chair, a dresser missing the knobs, and a table top. A family tried to make it through and they were unable to continue with their possessions.

The apparent loss made Jeptha wistful. He imagined a family losing everything. They may have lost their lives.

Looking further, he noticed the cart had been pulled by oxen. 

Their bones lay where they had fallen, but there was no cooking fire. The Heron’s arrow shafts were nowhere to be found and the bones had not been worked with a knife to retrieve the marrow.

Jeptha contemplated. Was it a scambaiter troll?

Not likely. 

Scambaiter trolls dragged their kills away and hoarded the bones like trophies.

Circling around, there was no sign of the owners. Apparently, they survived what had happened. 

The unknown beckoned Jeptha. He continued on his journey.

Jeptha Berengar, The Beast

Author: The Storyteller

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