They rode and rode and rode for days stopping just briefly at relay stations changing exhausted horses for new ones, all ready to go. They rode through plains and forests, through shallow rivers and highlands. Bob, the spawn of a demoness and the village himbo didn’t get tired very much, thanks to his amazing genetics, his nights were often spent scheming, strategising. Only now there wasn’t much to scheme or strategise for. But his trustworthy advisors, of course, as well as the rest of the assembled squad, needed their well-earned sleep. After all, they had barely slept for three days. The sun was beginning to set and gave the trees a glowing golden edge, and the nearby river its unmistakable blister. It was as if the gods themselves wanted to frame the moment and show it to the restless travelers. They had decided to set camp for the night.

  Bob sat by the river, both him and the sun reflecting on the flow of the water. He had heard many nights ago from his great teacher that one should strive to become like water, formless and adaptable. He remembered it when he fought the sailors from Seafaria, and when he fought the mages from the Sorceria, and many other peoples. What pulled him from his reminiscence was the faint smell of the broth his fellow countryman and cook, Hugh G. Feast, was cooking. As Bob turned his head, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one attracted to the smell. Behind a tree a little boy was hiding, whose hide-and-seek prowess seemed to be in dire need of honing. They boy finally realized that he was not as hidden as he’d hoped to be as he noticed the giant demon-man approaching. It feels necessary to clarify that Bob’s demon features would only emerge under certain conditions of the light. During the day he mostly resembled his father, the human, at night, he took after his mother, the demoness. Right now, at the time of dawn, he resembled something in-between, which was, perhaps, him at his most terrifying. The boy wanted to run, but froze. Bob said:

  “Hey, little one, are you by any chance a warrior? You want to challenge me to a fight? Were you observing me just now to strike me unexpectedly or perhaps to learn my habits and routine to then apply that knowledge to our fight?”

  The boy didn’t answer, couldn’t really. His stomach did. A loud and prolonged growl came from his belly. Embarrassed, the boy covered it with his hands. Bob chuckled.

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  “Come on with me, young challenger. With your stomach so empty you’re in no condition to fight me. After you’re full, we can resume our bout.”

  As they were approaching the camp, the smell of the soup became ever stronger, filling up their nostrils, teasing the appetite. Boy’s stomach growled louder and louder. Hugh was pouring the soup in bowls made of clay.

  “Who is this with you, My Master?”, asked Hugh.

  “This is a warrior who is determined to challenge me. But now he needs to eat, otherwise he’ll be unable to fight at full force.”

  “My Master, this is just a boy. I don’t think he can challenge you.”

  “Is that so?”, laughed Bob, “Well, we’ll just see about that. First, let us enjoy the food!”

  Hugh G. Feast gave Bob and the boy each a clay bowl and what seemed to resemble a piece of stale bread. The boy was scared and still couldn’t utter a single word. He sat there, unsure if he could start eating. He looked at all the campers, none of whom were eating just yet. Bob took the bowl, put it to his lips, gulped the whole thing in one sitting and threw the stale bread into his mouth. Others followed suit. The boy started gulping as well, but seemingly overestimated his ability to do so, as only about a third of the whole bowl got to his stomach, the other two thirds ended up on his clothes and on the ground as he gurgled it trying to keep the pace with everyone at the camp. He put the bread in his mouth and chewed it as fast as he could, two thirds of it crumbling down on the floor, of course. Nonetheless, he looked proud of his achievement. Hugh was the first who smiled, Bob was the first to giggle. Soon the whole camp erupted in laughter, the boy’s face turning red. “What an eager eater that little one”, thought Bob to himself. “If his fighting spirit is as strong he might just prove to be the one to challenge me after all.”

  Afterwards there was dessert: an assortment of forest berries and leaf tea, given in the same bowls the soup was eaten. After eating came the time of slumber. The boy, Bob and the other campers lay quietly with their bellies full and began snoozing and snoring.