Teresa’s answer was a welcome relief.  Sighing loudly, Motto opened his eyes to the thick darkness all around him and enjoyed the awareness his ears afforded him.  All of sudden, he remembered the granola..except it wasn’t granola.  Motto lurched forward and puked.  And puked.<span style="font-style: italic">And puked.</span>The horses’ ears flattened at the offending noise and gave the wagon an agitated jerk; sending the student back into his seat with a bang.<br/><br/>The former hunter was too caught up in the revolting experience on his tongue to even notice the sudden lack of scent.  Motto turned and rummaged through the contents of his wagon and found a water pouch.  Groaning, he opened it and tried to rinse his mouth out.  This only resulted in more coughing and gagging much to the horses’ annoyance.  Who made granola with sawdust and dirt anyways?  Damn gypsies.<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/DE2AYKp.jpg">[ img ]</a>