The tavern was busy, filled with too many people and not a breath could be taken without being inundated by the smells of old sweat on unwashed skin, cheap alcohol, bad breath, and the underlying scent of manure tromped in from outside. The food was warm though, and that was largely all Pine cared about.
He'd been on the mountains for a while now. It hadn't been particularly dangerous, so he'd been on his own, moving from one corpse to another to lay them to rest on the nearby peaks, but lighting fires could be difficult depending on the chill, or dangerous if it brought predators his way. He largely forewent the danger of attempting it, and it made it all the more appealing at the end of a task, that he could indulge in food that warmed him from within.
But it was the end of the planting season, and along too a group of adventurers had been heading along the route and stopped at the same tavern for want of a meal and a drink. They were all young looking, fresh out from under their mother's skirts by the look of things. Fresh faced, enthusiastic, and likely feeling they could take on anything. The lives of many such people passed onto the next life in these lands, and these ones didn't even look like they'd taken the time to train with local militia before leaving home. It would be a toss-up whether they would still be an adventuring party in a year's time, or, if they survived, if they would have turned to banditry for want of an easier life. He, who was also not local, had been put at the same table as they were, subjected to listening to their somewhat crude and inane chatter that did little to make them seem anything more than braggarts without experience. One though, one had been paying more attention, and Pine could feel that gaze alight on him more than once.
"You look like you've travelled a lot," came the voice he'd been waiting for from that one for most of the meal. He thought the youth might not have found the courage or gumption to ask at all as his meal turned into dregs, but perhaps he had just been waiting until then. Polite, to let him finish his meal first. "What would you suggest, if you were going where we were?"
Pine huffed out a breath; not laughter, but perhaps some wry amusement. Wisdom, this one sought, and if nothing else, he thought he had some of that to share, although it would likely be beyond most of that group to listen.
"Always plan for the worst," he said after finishing the last spoonful of his meal, and setting the bowl aside, "The worst weather, the worst enemies, the worst outcome. The mountains are filled with corpses who didn't. Lamenting ghosts who never got to return to those they loved because they always expected to return, ones who didn't bring adequate cold weather clothing, or enough supplies. Ones who didn't research the creatures in that area before travelling there and therefore didn't have antidote, or holy water, or whatever else they would have needed. Enthusiasm will get you out there, but if you want to return, plan for the chance that you won't. A corpse can't spend gold."
He got up then, not waiting for their response. They would take his wisdom, or they would not, but he cared little either way. Having already paid for his meal, he left the table and went outside where the air was a least a little fresher. To the east he would go, he thought. The youths inside had put him in mind of new beginnings, and each day started with one. And so out of the town he went, heading in the direction the sun would rise, glad to once more be away from the press of humanity.