Grayish blue, grayish blue were the skies, not with any exact meanace or malice, but a general light feeling of somberness. Nearby ruins of an old church, the yellow stones of the walls can be seen with the corner of their eyes whenever moving around in the forest entrance. "How's the food?" Asks the knight, to which the hermit responds "We have some meat left... I'll see if there's any berries around." "I'll set the fire, it seems tonight will be cold." The knight's armor shinks and clanks with his movement, grabbing the stones and sticks he can find on his surroundings, while the hermit disappears on the near woods, blowing his instrument happily, though the only real happiness is the sound of it, in an attempt to make the moment feel less tense.
Not long passes until the hermit comes back, his hair with leaves and flowers that blend with the green, with maybe two handfulls of something simmilar to mullberries. "It's all I got" he announces "Better than nothing" replies the knight. The hermit opens his bag and searches for a moment, sounds of glass hitting wood and wood hitting rock make a choir until his hand comes out with a few patches of dried meat, "Should be enough for tonight", he hands some to the knight and sits by the newly lit fire, the glowing orange emmiting life. They warm the meat near the fire, warm themselves with talks of before, of where to next and what is now, sounds of munchin berries. They are in no peace, no comfort either, their journey uncertain, their morals unsafe, but they get to rest, rest with no pressure, there is pressure of survival, but however haunting their situation becomes, there are no hammering invisible ghosts to take away their living, no curses to shackle them to a single path. The hermit sings a slow tune at the moon, the knight sharpens his sword.

They lay down to rest, their limbs limp.

Their joints are exercised. But now they rest.

Free of burden.