A weary afternoon sun hung low in the sky, watching over the port-town of Cerenis and sending a brilliant glimmer of thousands of diamonds upon the water. Occasional breezes tugged at the branches of drooping trees, begging them to sway, only to let go and come back again like the tide. The town was beginning to slow pace, merchants heading back to brightly painted caravans with jingling pockets.
It had been merchants who allowed Clavott to share a ride with them, perched on the back of a caravan while providing music for the long road. As he did, they paid him with food, a blanket to sleep under, and though they did not realize it, the best company he'd had in months. The stories around the campfire and watching daytime clouds roll over an open sky had made him feel at home again.
He'd leave them tonight, though. He had no wish to get stuck on routes with the merchants, as much as he liked them. He wanted a change of scenery- somewhere the merchants didn't go. Mountains, he thought. I've never walked my way through mountains. Sitting comfortably on the docks with his legs dangling just over the water, this idea struck him as a good one. Clavott looked to his side, where a slender wooden instrument sat, as if a friend. With a smile, he picked up the violin, raised it to his chin, and began to play. He played like the sweeping tides before him, like the gulls calling overhead, and like the sleepiness that began to settle over the town like dust. Seemingly alone, he played.
