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Disoriented upon awakening, his first thought is that he’s laying abed back in his room after coming out of a particularly vivid dream. Unfortunately, reality sets in and memory returns; and so too does the pain. It wasn’t a dream.

The room bears little resemblance to the one in which he spent the majority of his time the last few years. The walls were fashioned of lengths of timber set horizontally such as one might find in a log cabin. There is very little in the way of furnishings, merely the bed, a night stand and a chest with clothes folded neatly across the top. His spear and backpack rest in the corner next to the chest with his clothes. Clothes?

Lifting the covers, he discovers that he’s naked as the day he was born; the only exception being the bandage covering the wound on his leg where the wolf had bit him. Not sure how he came to be in this place, he does vaguely remember someone at the edge of the stream helping to fight off the wolves.

Daylight filters in through a small window in the far wall. The soft pink tinge in the sky beyond indicates that sundown must be approaching. Or could it be dawn? Beyond the window comes the sound of wood being split with an axe. A slightly off-key whistling tune accompanies the chopping.

Lying quietly, he listens to the whack, whack, whack. When the chopping stops, footsteps are heard making their way around the cabin. From the other side of his bedroom door comes the squeal of hinges in need of oiling, followed by the thudding of wood being dumped into what James envisions to be a wood-box.

After an anxious moment of silence during which James strains to hear what is going on out there, nervousness fills him when footsteps start coming toward the door to his room. He listens with growing trepidation as they draw closer.

Will he be friend or foe? Praying for the one who approaches to be counted among the former but fearing he may be of the latter, James glances toward the spear leaning against the wall. For a split-second, he contemplates going for it, but then the footsteps stop just outside the door and know2 the opportunity has past. He watches with apprehension as the door handle turns.

In walks the man who had been at the river. Seeing James awake, he pauses just within the door and gives him a disarming smile.

“Finally awake, I see. You slept all night and through most of this day. I bet you’re hungry. Yes?”

He’s in his mid forties, about six feet tall with brown hair, and quite muscular. Nothing fat about him, he’s in very good shape. Dressed in woodsman’s attire, he has a clean if not stylish appearance. Earlier apprehension is soon alleviated by the man’s friendly demeanor.

A loud rumbling from his belly answers the question. James gives him a nod. After a moment of silence, he asks, “Where am I? And who do I have to thank for my life?”

“As to where you are, you are here, in my cabin. My name is Ceryn and I am the Forest Warden in these parts. It was lucky I came along when I did. That wolf pack would have had you for dinner for sure.”

“Ceryn?” James says, hoping to have pronounced the name correctly. “My name’s James. I appreciate you saving me.”

Ceryn’s grin widens. “Glad I was there to help. You can rest for a little while longer. Supper’s cooking and will be a few more minutes before it’s ready.” He gestured toward the clothes upon the chest. “I cleaned them a bit, washed out the worst of it. If you have the strength and wish to get dressed, you can join me in the other room. If not, I’ll bring a bowl in here.” He waits for James’ reaction. When none is forthcoming, he mumbles, “Strangest clothes I’ve ever seen,” then turns about and without another word closes the door as he leaves the room. Soon, the sounds of what James’ grandfather always called puttering could be heard coming from the outer room.

Not really having the energy or drive to leave the comfort of the bed, but not wanting to eat dinner lying naked beneath the covers either, James gingerly sits up and swings his legs over the edge. The movement causes the