Shadowland

A dark and shadowy wood concealed them, but Ariel entered nonetheless. 

It was early evening and the sun filtered through the leaves, although as the boughs knit together more closely above the broad path the gloominess became tangible, like an ominous presence surrounding him. 

He knew he must pass through the forest, however perilous the journey. He had abandoned his father's house at dawn after refusing for the last time to kneel to the family's gods. His sisters clung to their mother's skirts but he was to be taken on the morrow to the men of Baal for judgement, and Ariel knew it would go hard with him and his life was in pledge. So that evening, as he was cleaning the animal stalls, he decided to creep away before dawn and make haste to remove himself from danger. 

But his mother loved him and the Lord had compassion, so when he crept into the kitchen in the small hours he found victuals and a flagon of wine left out. So he took them, with sling, knife, flint and steel, and a single iron cookpot and spirited himself away from his home with a heavy heart, melting into the wan light of the new dawn.

He passed the open fields furtively as the sun arose, keeping to the hedgerows to avoid detection and making slow progress, so the hour was becoming late when he finally reached the edge of the wood, but he felt relief to be cloaked at last by the oaks and sycamores, the myrtle, the laurel and the juniper. It was too late now for the fellers, hunters and charcoal burners to be about their craft, and the wood was vast, stretching hundreds of miles to the north, east, and west. So he left the main path and found a hollow under the rock, where he made a soft bed of moss and lighted a small fire for warmth and to roast the venison he had taken from his mother's larder. 

Leaning back against the rock he peered into the thick darkness beyond the firelight. Creeping sounds and pattering feet were all around him. A branch snapped in the distance and he gathered up his staff and sling, mindful that this was the home to wolves, bears and dangerous creatures. His heart was heavy as he thought back through his life. The bright optimism of the college and his disdainful opposition to his teachers, men and women who,  in the main, seemed to lack understanding about even the most basic matters of life. It was a gay time indeed, but he was making a name and a reputation, eyes were upon him and the world was at the threshold. It was time to become a man, find gainful employment and take a wife, but he was in love with beauty and excitement and had no time for studies, debts, and worldly cares, lacking any degree of respect for his elders.

The meat crackled over the flames and he made a pot of roast garlic and wine to moisten it. The feast was fit for a king. The fat ran through his fingers and the succulent meat brought strength and vigour to his bones for the road ahead. He fell into a deep and restorative sleep in the shadow of a great oak beside the dying embers of the fire.