It has been many, many long weeks since the Medicine Seller has gotten to properly stretch his legs. There is something infuriating to him about staying in any one place too long - he likes to roam, and now there is the opportunity to do so.

The only problem is that he is without one of those nifty little compasses.

Of course he could just ask a group if he could tag along. That would be the logical route.

It would also mean enduring the company of others. And likely campfire songs.

He'll pass.

Instead he tracks a group - several even - either following their prints in the snow, or the distinct odor of eau de calamar.

He is very good at keeping out of sight, but it's not like he can turn invisible. Moreover there are signs of him following - ofuda plastered on trees or burnt cones of incense to guard from beasts, the occasional sound of conflict as he fends off danger, or perhaps one might even catch a flash of blue and purple amidst the trees.

The Medicine Seller is starting to feel less a merchant and more the Okuri Inu out to trip such folk up. Ah well. One does as one must.