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Stael leaned on the broad window sill, staring out over the forest. A light rain was falling and the steady, soft sound of it lulled his mind and made him drowsy and introspective. Wind sighed through the trees making it sound as if the earth itself was breathing quietly. The fall foliage was mostly on the ground now, only a few stubborn leaves clung to their lonely perches high above the forest floor. When it was dry in this season, Stael could hear a deer walking a mile away but everything was soaked from the rain and the leaves were sodden and slippery.

Behind him, a fire crackled in the fieldstone fireplace and tendrils of smoke escaped the chimney and swept past him to dissolve among the myriad drops of water descending from the sky. He had lived in this small cottage for years and felt as if he was a part of it now. He had dug and hauled all the fieldstone for the walls and labored endless hours to shape it and mortar it in place. It had taken days to cut down the proper trees and rough them into shape with his adze. The roof was not composed of the usual thatch that one sees in this area of the country but formed of thin, wide pieces of slate he had carefully split off an outcrop near the river. It had taken ten times as long to put a roof on but it was worth it. He'd never have to replace thatch or repair leaks with a stone roof.

Stael had done so many things in his life. He had started out as a hunter, supplying meat and hides to a butcher in Moonglow. For awhile, he had taken up blacksmithing but tired of the continual noise, dirt and smoke. He had been a lumberjack and a woodworker. Then he had gone into adventuring and sought out monsters in the World to challenge. For years he had roamed the world, slaying fell beasts and daring deep dungeons in search of his prey. His life had hung by tatters more than once but somehow he had always managed to defeat his foe or, at least, escape. He still enjoyed adventuring but had tried fishing for a time, going out with an old man who had sailed the seas all his life. It was an invigorating life but Stael liked firm ground beneath his feet the best.

The thought of ground, of soil, caused him to cross the room and open the wooden shutters on the opposite window. Ahhh, his crops were lush still even at this late time of the year. There were patches of wheat and corn, cabbage and lettuce, carrots and turnips. A band of cotton headed one row and clumps of onions and potatoes sprouted in their own plots. Years ago he had planted pear, peach, apple, banana, orange, lemon and lime trees and their branches were laden with fruit still. His root cellar was full to bursting and he often gave away most of the produce he harvested. Soon though, the long growing season would end and the plants would sleep for the brief winter.

Stael took a deep breath to fill his lungs with the rain scented air and smiled quietly. He felt so much a part of the World. He had studied with mystics at times in the past and knew that everything was interconnected. He was a child of the Earth as were the plants in his fields, as were the animals he had hunted or the fish in the sea. Even the trees and mountains were his kindred if you considered their origin. Stael often wandered the forests and could feel the slow, persistent vibrancy of life around him. He often wondered if the World would be a better place if more people took time from their endless pursuits and paused to take a breath and regard the wondrous world about them.

People seemed to want to force life into a form they could understand and control. But, life is too universal, too powerful to be fit into a box of limited human understanding. No matter how much control someone thought they had in life, in actuality they had almost none. But, they would fight this because it made them feel powerless and the more they fought to control their lives, the more hectic things seemed to get. The way to live is to know you have no real control. Just do your best and be patient. Everything changes, nothing bad will stay that way forever. Of course, nothing good stays the same forever either so enjoy those times to the fullest while they last.

Stael had tried to live that way. He had gone from profession to profession, following his changing interests and trying to immerse himself in whatever he had undertaken. He had fully enjoyed everything he experienced in life and when there were problems, he recognized the problems were there to give him an opportunity to learn about the world, or himself. He hadn't always been successful with the serene attitude. A lot of his lessons in life had been learned the hard way and only afterwards was he able to disassociate himself enough to regard the experiences with objectivity and realize the value in them. But for now, he was content to farm and wander the forests, trying to let go even more of his own human tendencies to control things. The more he let go, the more understanding and power came to him. A fascinating paradox indeed.

A cool breath of wind slipped into the cottage and fanned the low burning fire, sending sparks flickering out upon the thick timbers of the floor. Stael brushed a few away from a bale of cotton and watched the rest dwindle into flecks of black soot. The rain outside increased in strength and the air grew more chill. He closed the shutters on both windows and sat in his chair before the fire, contentedly watching the play of heat among the coals.