Young Urik has hot, tired, and sticky.
“Uncle, can’t we rest for a bit?” he said.
Erik looked about and stiffed the air. “No we should keep moving. These woods are a dangerous place if we stay too long.”
“Are there wolves?” the fourteen year old asked.
“Worse, Lad, there are Trolls,” his uncle explained.
“But they are make believe, to keep children from entering the forest,” the boy said confidently. “My friend, Bjorn says so.”
“Really, and what would be the purpose in that?” Erik retorted.
“So they don’t get lost or run into wolves,” the youth said.
“Then why do all the tales say that Trolls are only a menace at night?” his uncle questioned sternly.
“So – so that . . .” the boy began.
“Exactly,” said his uncle. “Children wouldn’t be in the woods at night anyway. The tales are to warn travelers like us to not stay in this forsaken place after dark.”
“But that’s only an hour away,” the boy said beginning to scan his surroundings nervously.
“That’s why we can’t take a rest,” Erik said gruffly. “Just keep moving.”
Just then a heavy cloud drifted across the sun. It didn’t bring total darkness, but it was enough for the Troll perched upon the hill above them to stick out his tongue at the foolish boy.