For days I wander the grass lands searching for a place to rest; my home had been ravaged by barbaric hordes, pillaging and killing, raping and taking captive slaves. I narrowly escaped with my life hiding in the pens of pigs; covered with the foul leavings of rotten waste from the tables of the aristocrats.
Finally I reach the forest with its shroud of trees to hide me. I venture inward; deeper and deeper. Soon I hear the familiar sounds of a river of sorts. I come upon the mossy banks and fall to my knees, cup my hands and scoop up a cool drink for my parched throat. "Ahhhhh!" After satisfying my thirst I decide to tend to the business of cleansing off the stench that now permeates my aching, sore body.
I discard my meager trappings of clothing and slowly descend into the icy water. "Brrrrr!" Some stalks of fragrant ginger line the edge of the river banks. I tread water toward them,picking them and squeezing the sweet nectar from their stalks. With my hands I work up a gel-like lather on my long tresses, then I use the brush shaped flower at the end of the stalk as a washing brush for the rest of my body. I remain soaking and let the aroma devour my senses and take away the foul stench of the garbage from the pig sty.
After a long dreamy soak, I emerge and grab a hold of my pitiful tattered clothing and scrub it with the remnants of the ginger plant. Spreading it on the branches, I leave it to dry while I gather some large leaves to fashion a bedding and a covering for a nap.
I lay atop the cool leaves, covering myself with some more leaves as best as I can. My eyes look towards the canopy of the trees and I slowly drift off to a dreamless sleep.
