The next few days of traveling in the Lone-Lands were uneventful. Cerriel never did like traveling through them as she felt like she was always being watched from something.
Goat on the other hand, enjoyed eating whatever he could find and often went off the road to eat it. The expected few days turned into something longer every time he became side tracked.
“Honestly Goat, one of these days your stomach is going to get us lost or worst.” The woman said, sighing as they stopped at a small bush of berries.
Goat must have been ignoring her or knew her too well. A day later at the bridge, Goat again took off running and instead of crosses the bridge, leaped into the water, taking Cerriel and their supplies with him.
She shook herself once her feet reached ground. Drenched to the bone, the former sailor gave her riding goat a nasty glare. Goat only seemed to grin back.
“I should have named you Jester.” She said as she slapped at the water. Her boots swished with each step as she got out of the river. Goat followed before stopping to taste one of the tree branches. He even ignored her when Cerriel was taking everything out of the saddle bags to lie out. A fire was started and then her wet stocks of food were placed in a pot to cook.
As the night settled down, Goat laid down next her by the campfire. The sounds of the flowing water would ease them into sleep.
