Literature

The Ronin and the Vagabond

The wanderer sighed, his legs ached, and his feet felt as though the bottoms were worn away to nothing. It was cold this far south of the imperial city. A chill fog surrounded him. The night air He stunk. It had been days since the last village, and a decent meal. He opened his pack, looking at the reserves that he had left. Two rice balls, and some dried fish. He would have to make it last. He looked about. Damn it, I have seen these lands a hundred times on paper, but now, why can I not find my way? The wanderer sniffed at the air. Fire. His nose detected a cooking fire. He stepped through a patch of rocks, and into a clearing, to where a small waft of smoke raised from a simple fire. The wanderer's one good eye looked keenly at the shape of a man, sitting with his back to him. The man's kimono was simple brown, and altho