They sat around the fire. Some strangers,
some friends. Each a story to tell. Of where they'd been. Most came in groups of
three and more, but there were always a few couples. And there were never less
than two. that is until now.
He rode up, nearly missing. Perhaps he didn't understand. The animals were
normally kept in the stables at night. The signs clearly stated, "Dismount
before joining the circle around the fire."
He assured us, his animal was well controlled and would not make a mess.
("Besides, since mounting we've never been separated").
By the time he got there, the stories had all been told. The fire almost cold.
He tossed a handful of stuff onto the coals. Small fingers of light flicked,
dancing flames. Without waiting to be asked, he began his story.
"In the beginning was the word"
One by one the others began to leave. Some said, "we've heard this story
before", some said dreams are nothing more, some said "whoever let him
in?", although none had ever met him before. And I should know. I run the
stables, and he has never been here before. Besides, he's the first loner.
His story was interesting, particularly the part about the treasure. Now, I
suppose if it was true, the others would have stuck around.
I had to clean the stables. Such a mess those animals make. Like he said, his
was well trained.