Being a witch is often a lonely exsistance. Especially if your a nomad on top of it. Travelling from town to town, forging for food and sometimes having to go hungry for a bit, that's the life I'm used to.

I gently pat my horses neck before removing his reigns from the caravan and letting him wonder around the planes. This is good stop, there's lots of grass, a small forest and a clean stream. Everything a lone caravan of one horse and witch need. I glance over the area before grabbing a basket. Forests, even small ones, usually have all manner of goods inside. From medicinal herbs to mushrooms to berries and fruit. Everything you need for a meal other than meat. Unless, you're willing to hunt that is.

After a few minutes of foraging I stop dead in my tracks as I make out a tuff of red fur sticking out from under on of the trees. A fox? But it's much to large. I step closer and make out the figure of a kitsune. It looks a bit worn out, tired and probably hungry. I kneel down next to the kitsune and ruffle through my travel pack, taking a small amount of water and dripping it onto their face to try to wake them up.

"Come on, little fox spirit. Are you even doing well?"