From the deeper recesses of the forest the strange whispering sounds of night-time came to the ear; all else was silent, saving only for the rattling of their footsteps amid the crisp, dry leaves of the last winter.

At last a ruddy glow shone before them here and there through the trees; a little farther and they came to the open glade, now bathed in the pale moonlight.

In the center of the open crackled a great fire, throwing a red glow on all around.

At the fire were roasting juicy steaks of venison, pheasants, capons, and fresh fish from the river.

All the air was filled with the sweet smell of good things cooking.
The little band made its way across the glade, many yeomen turning with curious looks and gazing after them, but none speaking or questioning them.