When Ichabod left Freehold last it would turn out to be perfect timing. He could have been implicated in a lot of things that had gone on and gone wrong in the frontier town. His yearly trip to procure his swamp bean and swamp leaf supply came at the perfect time. As he walked his “lesser known” path toward town he could see smoke from the the local Inn. He hoped withing his hat that the heat had died down and he was an afterthought to some of the controversy that had happened as of late. His pack was heavy and legs were stiff. “The Ghoul” hadn’t eaten in days and it began to make his thoughts muddy and his complexion more and more pale. He plopped on to a rock and pulled a candied troll finger from his bag and chomped on it. He could feel his thoughts fighting the haze of un-dead hunger finally. He was finally home. But what was left of this home? He prayed to the keepers that some of the rumors being spilled through the world were not true.
The Professor stood and continued his walk reaching the edge of town he smiled and relaxed his shoulders. He was back to the only place it seemed he belonged. He kept his head down though, trying to go unnoticed for the time being.