VII.
It was quiet, except for Baraba's horse Tulie stirring restlessly in its pen. For reasons unknown to Typhon, Baraba kept his horse in the tent they both slept in, rather than in the stables with all the other horses in the camp. Because of this, there was always a stench of manure in the air, so Typhon generally avoided being in the tent for any long periods of time other than to sleep.
Regardless, he laid in his bed all that morning, too lost in thought to be disturbed by any foul stenches, nor sounds of life coming from outside.
I can't believe it...
After last night, it was all he could think about.
Dad is working with the slave traders.
Typhon's thoughts drifted back to his home, to the smell of sawdust and sweet pie. To his friends and his mother's smile, and the simple life he'd left behind to seek out his father.
He remembered his mother's words to him, as she lay dying:
"Go, Typhon! Find your father."
