As you roam down the road towards the town of Tsuma, it is a beautiful morning. And why not? After all, would the Asahina shugenja of the Crane Clan allow this spectacular event to be rained upon? You all know better. The river valley is green and lush with spring. The stalks of orange wul are filling out for harvest. You made only a quick stay at the last way station, and today your anxious feet carry you as swift as any pony through the orchards—- and without warning you suddenly come up behind an old man dressed in peasant clothes topped by a brilliant blue scarf. He is laden by a large chest resting upon his greatly bent back. At your unexpected approach, he scrambles to get out of the way, tumbling off the sort embankment of the roadway and landing in the shallows of the river reeds. He is slow to push his face from the water.