[Another long, exhausting day for me. Not much grown in the story, some establishment of geography and time mostly. I expect, I'll edit and paste everything together with tomorrow's addition. It probably won't be the last, however. ]
“It was settled then, my course of action. The clarity of the vine, a spent pouch of tobacco, a sheath of maps, and a quiet considered evening brought about the specifics of the matter.
It had been a pair of years since I retired from Highport to our tiny village and one more besides since I had read Mrs. Brinkley’s journal. Add to that the year she lived post Ryan’s loss at sea, and it appeared the creature moved quite slowly, or perhaps wandered broadly. By hired horse and chartered boat, it should’ve taken me short of a month to arrive in Highport.
From there I would take the more direct, if much wilder, overland route, seeking any and all clues of the creature. For it was then that my curiosity overleapt and my desire for motion waxed full; the idleness of retired country life had sat poorly upon me for some time. (I, of course, miss idleness terribly at present.)
Between dangerous men, uncooperative equines, and petulant spring storms, I arrived in Highport somewhat worse for the wear, six weeks later.”
[Bertrams meandering, long-winded, comma-laden voice is a pleasure to write for some reason... maybe Thoreau was on to something.]