Pike stumbled through the wood. It was thick grown with cypress and pine, the trunks so close to one another he nearly had to squeeze himself between them to continue on. The mid day birds filled the crisp Autumn air with their songs and mysterious rustlings shook the branches over head. Pike pressed deeper into the wood, stumbling over roots and steadying himself on the nearby trunks to keep his balance. He'd continued heading toward, what he believed to be, north for what seemed hours. If that traveler's directions were right, he should have hit the vale by now.
The canopy above him was thick, and what light did get through didn't show him much beyond a few feet in front of himself. As he walked and stumbled he quickly realized that he'd lost track of time. He wouldn't know if it was getting dark until it was too late and he could only imagine what kind of beasts lurked in these kinds of woods once true darkness settled in. He fought back the creeping fear and walked on, if only because he didn't know what else to do.
He nearly cried when he stumbled out into the clearing of the vale. The sun stood low in the blueing sky and gleamed an orange that filled him and the vale with a failing warmth. The clearing wasn't very large, but it would be suitable for camp. Pike even found a tiny fresh water brook nearby. He filled his water skins and bathed as best as he was able then set about making a fire.
The twilight soon fell and the purple in the sky drained to black, leaving shimmering specks of stars scattered in the upturned basin of the heavens. Below it, among the nights shadow, Pike's little fire showed brightly and crackled as he worked on cooking his dinner. He stirred the vegetables and meats in the rainbowing grease, recoiling slightly from the occasional popping and sniffing dangerously close to his concoction to see if it needed another dash of seasoning. It usually did.
Upon finally giving up on it, he left the pan to simmer a while and leaned back against a fallen, rotted log that rested nearby. He ran his hand back and forth across tickling dried moss that lined it's sides and watched the dancing shadows cast by the crackling fire play amoungst the tree line. The night was quiet and more serine than any night he cared to remember. He watched, listened, and smiled. He wondered if tomorrow would be kind enough to arrive a little late. He wouldn't mind. Not one bit.