Rastus sat on the end of the second wagon of the caravans carrying glass beads, trying to avoid the switch of the merchant's son, who seemed to think it was funny when he flicked Rastus at the back of the neck, or at his ankles especially when he was sleeping.
The caravans grinded to a halt.
"Prepare the midday meal" the merchant Jonas ordered imperiously. He was already in a bad mood because they were already a week late in their travels and the bribes needed to enter cities had risen this season. The sudden downpour of rain hadn't helped his temper either. Jonas gave Rastus a cuff on the back of the head, as the boy scurried off to help prepare the meal for the five drivers, the twelve man guard that had been hired, and of course Jonas and his son. If there was any left, he and the cook, a large harmless woman, would eat - in the frantically hurried way that people eat when they know any dawdling will be seen as a sign of laziness and punished.
He sighed. The store of dry wood they carried was low. They had intended to collect more as they passed the border of the forest, but with this sudden rain...
Personally, Rastus was puzzled. He had seens the skies this morning and the shifting winds, but none of them had told him that rain was coming. But he stopped his thoughts. It did no good to think. You only got punished.
Under the damp canvas he set up, Rastus started a miserable fire with the remaining wood.
[ July 17, 2002: Message edited by: Kettle of fish ]
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The inimical is often more instructive than the benign. Between screams, try to pay attention.
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