The Traveler

Staying within the shallows of the woods, the air is beginning to cool and thinking of, he slips the kid off his hip. “It’s getting cold. Sleaves might be a tad long but that can be fixed.” That said, pulled from his satchel is a wool sweater and once handed over, from there, he drifts off in staring at the rooster pecking at the ground before he shifts to looking up to the sky that has him thinking it won’t be long before the stars take up the dance floor when breaking up the thought is the kid asking, “You got a name.”

Stunned, what slips out is, “Most call me the traveler. What about you kid. You got a name?”

“They said my name was Jasper.” Such a statement is followed with a downtrodden grin telling of hardship and giving up a smile, he waits a second more before he says, “We better move on.” The kid gives by saying, “Red, time to go.”

Attached to his hip, timewise, ox and driver have most likely come across the feasting crows and whether superstitious or not, lazy man will want the two to press on in reaching the doors of the mansion. Thinking ahead to the delivered news raising an eyebrow, imagines further the call of sending out the dogs. This time, instead of hounds, it will be the raging public gathering mob style as in their mind justice will be served by having the culprit drawn and quartered in the public square.

Wanting no part of that, checks his mind and by the time he and his entourage reach the backside of the pens, dusk is scratching at the door.