It was the third fight that Alec helped breakup that convinced him that his exodus was the right decision. It wasn't that three were too many. Rather, it was the spontaneity and the brutality of the affrays. In each of those altercations, the combatants had just exploded.

There was something ugly and lingering in that village. Small wonder that many locals took every opportunity to avoid the place. Of course, with new people coming every day, there was no avoiding one central area, one community gathering point, but, well ....

There was something going on, something afflicting the people of that area, that Alec couldn't pin down.

He'd made no mention of his plans to anyone. The small knot of people with whom he had arrived slowly had begun to find their niches in the new community.

Of course, they'd made it a point to try and include Alec in their plans. He joined them, politely, when doing otherwise would have been rude, and he even shared his opinions of things from time to time. But it was extremely difficult for him to join a new group. The last years had been like an anvil around his neck.

He needed to go.

He spent about a week just planning. With only a little searching, he had found a few deposits of flint and had fashioned several sharp and serviceable knives. Those were more than sufficient to trim down his oaken walking stick to just the right size.

There was forged metal to be found in the hamlet, but there wasn't much of it. Even more, the stuff was dear. That whole thing was surprising. He'd spotted no fewer than three small deposits of hematite within two miles of the village, pure and beautiful natural ore in each of them. It wasn't like they were hidden, either.

Perhaps no one had the training to identify such things or the skill to refine it. He was no metalsmith, but with just a little hard work, Alec was confident he could begin to produce at least some crude iron tools within a few months.

He would worry about that later. Today was departure day.

There would be no goodbyes. He'd gone around to the small body of folks he knew there, at least those he could find, on the previous day and said some kind and friendly things to them. He'd shared his sentiment honestly, but there was no use being melodramatic.

At about an hour after sunrise, he went into the village, approached the broad announcement board there, and used some charcoal to etch a short note with his name and where approximately he could be found. He didn't expect anyone to come looking for him. His people were long dead, but one never knew for certain, especially in this topsy-turvy world in which they'd found themselves.

Alec headed east for no other reason than it was the opposite direction that the community as a whole had been growing.

The trail he followed wasn't quite a road, but it was something more than a game trail. Moreover, it appeared to go straight east, with only occasional and faint curves along the way. For the first few hours, he passed by farms and farm folk. Most were newcomers like him, but, as he travelled, more and more of the folk Alec saw were the people that he'd come to know were the natives of this land.

These folks were quiet but polite, and unlike his companions from Earth always had a nod or a smile when they saw him. A few even blessed him with quiet words of what appeared to be greetings before going back to their work.

It was that way for hours as he made his gentle way down the road. From time to time, the path would take him near a stream, which probably was the same body of water that merely meandered here and yon. And on more than a few occasions did he startle deer, elk, or what could only be wild goats. He was even delighted and surprised to see a pair of moose. The sight of them took his breath away.

After lunching on some of the fruits he'd brought along, his feet in the stream, he shouldered the flimsy reed pack and headed again east.

That leg of the journey was much the same as the morning's amble, a thing that was not the least bit tedious. After years living in desolation, Alec thought he would never tire of seeing wildlife in the green. The afternoon brought even more. There was a small sounder of wild boar, some turkeys, and much to his delight, some horses in the distance.

This place seemed to have everything that might have been found in North America or Europe. There was no perfect fidelity. Several of the species of deer were unknown to him. A badger that he saw waddling away toward the stream didn't seem quite as he'd remembered them. But a beaver who had dammed off several back waters of the stream seemed identical to those he'd seen as a child.

There continued to be fruit throughout the course of his walk. It wasn't everywhere, but small patches of fruit tree and berries appeared every few miles. He always took the opportunity to stop and snatch a few, eating some and placing the remainder in his improvised rucksack for later.

There even were some ground foods. Wild onions were common enough, mushrooms were there if he looked, and he found some wild potatoes.

It was not quite the Garden of Eden, but it was pleasing, and food was plentiful. More than that, the road was easy. He made his way without the least effort.

Not the tiniest little fatigue troubled him when he reached the end of his day's journey. At about an hour before sunset, he found a place where the stream again approached the road, waded across it, and wandered far enough into the surrounding woods that he would not be seen.

There he made himself a bed of pine branches and leaves, and he even made a flimsy lean-to on the off chance it might rain. His bed for the night was hasty, but it was cozy.

He'd toyed with the idea of seeking a bed in one of the farms he still sometimes passed. The places were growing less frequent as he travelled, but he still would see one or two per hour. But he didn't want to impose.

Honestly, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts so he might try and sort out what had become of him. As the sun set, he leaned back into his comfortable couch and drew his walking stick and knife nearby. There had been not a single predator all day, but no doubt nighttime would bring them out in abundance. He intended to be ready if they came looking for an easy meal. Alec thoroughly intended not to be one.

He'd been alone all day with his thoughts, but as he leaned back, relaxed, and contemplated things, he was seized by a sudden sense of loneliness. That was no surprise; he knew himself well enough to have anticipated that emotion. Still, it was unpleasant, and for just a few moments he had to swallow down that bitter sensation.

This was a thing he needed to do. Never once in his life had he wanted to be a crazy old hermit, but that was what he intended to be now.

***

Alec arose with the first light of dawn and did his morning routine. He'd found that a stick from a tree common to the area made a pliant toothbrush, and washing with clear water and no soap was better than not washing at all.

That was something to which he needed to apply himself. Five years shower-free in the trenches was enough. Hygiene was something he no longer felt compelled to put on the back burner.

The weather was brilliant that morning. It felt like rain, but the sun shone brightly on the road as he walked. Throughout the morning, clouds rolled in, deposited a few drops of rain, and then gave way again to the sun, which never truly was completely behind the clouds. It was wonderful.

There had been some noise around him in the forest the night before, which was no surprise. None of it sounded menacing, but, as a reminder, the forest showed him his first hint of a large predator. Not too long before noon, a pair of lank and lean wolves appeared on the road in front of him.

The creatures didn't trouble even to look at him, and soon they were trotting down the trail in the same direction as Alec, only again to disappear into the woods about 10 minutes later.

Was it part of the pack that he and his companions had seen on their first day in this land? It was possible. Wolf packs often ranged wide. But this country was rich enough that it would support many predators. By that time, the land in which he found himself had become even more wild. Farms had begun to grow fewer. He encountered a cluster of buildings and a few people working only every hour or so.

After stopping for his noon meal, he found the resolve to try and talk with the first farm that he reached. It wasn't a complete disaster.

The fellow hoeing a garden near the road stopped to wave, and when it looked as if Alec too would stop, the man came over. Their greeting was a handshake, which was promising. The fellow offered Alec a drink from a bottle the chap recovered from a table and a puff from a pipe that the man was smoking, one that smelled only vaguely of tobacco. Both of those Alec declined.

The fellow then attempted to engage him in what appeared to be polite conversation. The chat was awkward but not unpleasant. Those back in the village had told Alec and his friends that the language spoken locally was incomprehensible. But after ten minutes, Alec wasn't sure.

Through speaking and gesture, it became clear that the man's first question was a simple one. In words that Alec could fathom, the man appeared to be asking where Alec was going. Whether the man thought Alec was a dullard or not wasn't obvious, because Alec's reply, through words and gesture, was simply, "that way," meaning east.

Either way, the man, a fellow in his 60s by the look of him, seemed tickled, and ended the conversation with a simple phrase that he repeated several times.

"Istan droot," the fellow said several times with great patience.

It only was later, after Alec resumed his journey, that it dawned on him what the man said.

"Istan droot."

"Stay on the road."

The fact that he'd learned his first words in that alien tongue tickled him so much that Alec didn't think to ponder why he might need to stay on the road.