Altair sat under the tree for about five minutes before retrieving his pack. The butler had packed him a rough, homespun wool cloak. It was by far the ugliest piece of clothing Altair had ever owned. He took it to be polite, since he was grateful for the butler's help in packing and preparing, but he'd sworn he'd never wear it.
Once the cloak was wrapped firmly over his shoulders, Altair went for the food. He took a meat pie, too, and an apple, and a slice of cheese. He tried a small piece of hare, but it looked and tasted exactly as one of the blackened logs in the fire must.
The rain definitely dampened his spirits. The tree wasn't really a great shelter. Great drops of rain dripped down from the leaves every so often onto their heads. Were they going to have to sleep in the rain? Altair wondered how much Wil would charge for shelter.
"I plan to embellish this tale as well," Altair agreed, a bit irritably. "Otherwise, why would this even be worth telling about? 'We walked all day, killed a few wolves, ate bits of coal, and then got rained on. The next day, we went home.' Rubbish."