The first cold of the season was beginning to set in, and the weary travelers had yet to find a safe haven. Off in the distance, they could see the telltale embers and smoke of a campfire. The travelers had little choice; bandits, highwaymen, or traveling companions, they would need supplies soon or starve.
Some time later, the small company came upon the fire. It was empty, yet the blaze burned as though it had been rekindled moments ago. Near the pit, laid out as if expecting company, were ratios of bread, cheese, and jerky. The smell of coffee in a kettle reached their noses. Some started openly weeping, while others said a small prayer.
"Thank the Gods!" Someone exclaimed, and a small but powerful voice from behind them responded.