The wood was quiet. Never before had Demitri felt as calm as he did in this moment. There were no worries and no cares, no bonds and no master, only serenity and bliss, only his sword and her staff under the cool shade of the glen. He felt as though the world was made only of this place, this time, and this moment therein. He reveled in the notion, nurtured it in his mind, and let it become his reality. It was, if only for a small window of existence, the truth – reality itself.
He felt free. His armor set aside, carefully piled next to that of his companion, Demitri allowed himself the luxury of feeling the forest air. He breathed it in, held it, and exhaled in slow, appreciative gulps. His metered stroll through the fallen leaves gave him ample time to soak in his surroundings – the sights, the sounds, the smells. He could taste the sweet nectars bubbling in the opening buds of the flowers. The towering trees sheltered him as he lazily made his way through their endless maze, showering him with faint sheets of light dew. The sunlight wove its way past the canopy to illuminate his path with a pale green hue.