What
does it all portend? The thoughts repeated themselves as he view
the clearing.
A foreboding crossed his mind.
One of us shall not survive the tasks of Zeus!
Ever northward he trekked. He did not know why, only that his
feet were guided by Zeus. His quest was to the far north.
Game were plentiful, and he ate well. At times he partook of
venison, at times of fish from the streams. Rarely, he ate not.
After one repast he knelt by a quiet brook, washing his face
and hands.
In the water he saw a visage not his own!
He turned quickly, rose to his feet.
The unseen companion had faded into the undergrowth.
"Come out and face me, coward! Do not skulk and hide, recreant!"
Perhaps a tree branch moved, perhaps a footfall was heard.
Then, nothing.
His eyes widened, as he thought to himself, I must be on my
guard. Whatever it is, it becomes bolder with each passing day.
He followed a stream, a path along its edge. The path widened
as he climbed upward, and at times footprints could be
discerned. A dwelling must lie not far ahead.
At evening he arrived in a small village at the foot of tall,
snowpeaked mountains. He found an inn. Walls made from logs,
with cracks filled with dried mud, and a rock fireplace as one
wall, it formed one huge room. Animal furs, fur of deer, of
bear, hung across from one wall to the other, sectioned off
little bays where the traveler could rest in limited privacy.
Through signs and much nodding and handwaving Demo bartered
trinkets for such a room.
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