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The blizzard had come out of nowhere. Had it not been for the old ruins of a Roman fort, the three of them might have perished there, in the mournful wilderness of Gorre. Now, Awan had lit a fire in the sad remains of a once proud tower, and his companions, the knight and the archer, were huddled under their woolen cloaks, their hand held out as close to the fire as they dared. They looked like three bandits, gaunt, unshaven, dressed in patched rags. Their steeds would not have fetched many pennies from a sane byer. "What now?", said Clydd, looking at Sir [[Padern]] with his mischevious eyes. "Come morning, that Beast will have left some nice tracks, surely? The Quest goes on, eh?" Sir [[Padern]] stared into the fire, as if he was struck deaf and dumb. A shiver went through his body, and he wiped his eyes with one hand, as if he was crying. Suddenly, he stood up, scaring the [[horses]], who still had to learn his habit of breaking out in sudden outbursts of talk. His hardened companions looked curioulsy at their master. What was going on? But Sir [[Padern]]'s eyes did not light up, his clear voice did not explode in flowery oration. He just looked up at the white sky, his face strangely veiled. "No. Tomorrow .... tomorrow ..." He seemed to be struggling with some strange concept. "Tomorrow we go home", he ended quietly. His companions exchanged a quick glance. ''What'' was going on? "Home?", said Awan, hoping beyond hope. "Home, yes, home", said [[Padern]] simply. "I ... I ... This Quest ... The Beast ... Oh!", he said loudly, and ''now'' his voice rose and his face became alive, "Oh! I've been such a Fool, running after that stupid Beast. How could I think that one like me would ever catch it! Even King P is not worthy, and he is ten times the Knight I am ... I'm" ... He grew quiet again, sat down, "I'm sick of it all. I want to see my wife ... my foster sons ... my manor, or, well, you know, Swallowcliffe ... I don't even know what year it is!" He looked again at the sky, as if the answer was written there. His intensity grew again. "I left it all, my wife, family, manor, my, my, my Lord, to chase this, this .... pipe dream! I must have been bewitched!" And he sat down, shoulders slumped. "So ... tomorrow", said Awan carefully, as if afraid to break this spell of sanity. "Not tomorrow", said Clydd philosophically, "we're in Gorre in the middle of winter. We'll need to winter. Come spring, we can try to make our way south. We'll have to be careful ... maybe go west of the mountains to stay clear of the [[Saxons]] and the wars". He gave his master a searching look. Sir [[Padern]] looked up again, looked them both in the eyes. "Yes", he said, "yes, come spring ... Oh! How I long for home!"
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