Horizon Ridge if she ever, ever knew

the scents of sacrarium felt far and few from the river to here.

he did not feel bad walking across the land, for he did not take. he examined. he watched. pleased that things seemed nice here still.

even as the mornings and nights became colder and colder. he looked for things to bring back to the small makeshift garden and cache he had began to cultivate. he had not imagined himself as a gardener, among his missionary work.

but here was a man, dark and large. seeming to do much the same work bartholomew had come for.

blessed day, he greeted warmly with a smile. collecting the local flora?