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When Boravar awoke, he found a mug of berry juice and a plate of cold meat and dried fruits had been placed inside the shelter for him. He sat up and, propping his elbows on his knees, ran his hands back and forth through his hair to wake himself up. When eventually he wandered outside, he found his horse saddled up and tethered to a nearby tree. He inspected the saddlebags and discovered that they had been filled with provisions. There was no sign whatsoever of the woodfolk.
Heaving a sigh, he walked to his horse’s head and stroked his nose. The horse tossed his head and nudged firmly at the sorcerer’s pocket.
“Sorry, old fella. I don’t have any treats for you.” Boravar smiled fondly. “Just a minute.” The burly sorcerer wandered over to a stand of succulent green grass and pulled up
