Herro! Millstone Village!
He may have been stronger than normal from traveling so much in recent times, but he was also quite lazy and he couldn’t help sitting down to take a break—a reward to himself, for he just had to spoil poor Pinky every now and then. No one else would. He found the village in the trees, emerging suddenly onto a grouping of old buildings that piqued some sense of curiosity. Slipping into a close-by cabin—the door creaking audibly on rusted hinges, seemingly protesting against his entry—he took a seat at the small table and plopped his bag right down before him. Stretching out his limbs, his gaze found the cobweb ridden ceiling and he began to idly count spiders, forgetting to finish his stretch midway.
Arms still raised above his head and chest puffed out, he wriggled briefly as he once again took notice of his own body and dropped his limbs like dead weight. A sudden sound caused him to nearly jump out of his skin, jerking and bristling as though he were being attacked. It repeated, again and again, and he realized that it was nothing more than a loose shutter on the window being battered by the wind outside. He snorted, rising to his feet and starting to investigate the interior of the cabinets. Maybe there’d be some dried herbs about that he could borrow—for medical purposes, of course.
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