The fire was snapping only occasionally now. The kindling had become good sized branches and a dry dead log. Don had been very successful in getting the dinner-fire ingredients. He licked his lips, tasting the well-cooked oil on his lips. No meal had ever tasted so well. The Frisian was a master cook in the camp.

"Where did you become so well acquainted with camp-cooking?" Don asked the yellow and red outline of the Frisian across the fire from him. They had stayed late and enjoyed the meal. The dankness wrapped around their cozy place by the fire.

"I've lived in the camps nearly all my life," the Frisian replied."I was only a a few years from retirement from my legion." He eyed the Don warily, waiting for his reaction. The Don's puzzled look was reassuring , it didn't seem very calculated.

"Roman legion...?" Don couldn't say anything more. What was going on? Did he stumble into a movie shoot? He looked at the Frisian's clothes. "You don't seem very Roman to me."

"No, I'm Frisian. I enlisted year's ago to watch Frank and Goth tribes and keep the Roman order....good it was too. Pushed the Goths warring clans apart - made the farmer's happy, those that didn't end up as slaves." The Frisian's eyebrows lifted - eyeing the dichotomy of legal systems.

Don stared in some shock. What road had he taken? The world about him shimmered, as if was in a dream. He couldn't find his voice - or a thought to make a question.

"...but Rome called us back. My legion was decamped and marched out of the lowlands a couple of months ago. We were making our way up Rhenus when we ran into some trouble in Hercynia Silva. I decided that Roman retirement wasn't a very sound opportunity. I'm going back to Frisia and take my chances with the chieftains..."

Don looked at his travelling companion in a stupor. He could hear the Frisian's words echoing in his mind. Was he in ancient Europe or in some new variety of dementia? Vague memories of his life had been colliding ever more frequently with his days up until recent. The persistent buzz of these memories pushed him away from his caretakers. He had lost interest in the daily rituals and callous handling of his managers. The world beyond had called to him like Ulysses' sirens. Now where had those sirens taken him?

"....and you stranger? Hidden in this forest like a wilds man? I can't tell if you're old enough to run here to hide. One moment you seem aged and infirm, the next you're fit and ready. What's your story? Have you forgotten where you're headed?"

Don found his voice. "I am unsure where I'm headed... I just needed to get away. After a time I found myself here. Are we getting close to Frisia?"

The flames had become embers, the soft glow created strange features on the Frisian's face. It seemed like he was speaking through a mask."Frisia will come to me soon enough. Is it coming for you, as well?"