As Feather packed away the food for later, Kijani deftly set about making herself a basket for lunch. She chose the thick bread and apple butter, a rasher of bacon and a jug of tea. Once that was settled, she headed back upstairs, to put on a sturdier pair of walking boots and a skirt that she wouldn't mind getting dust on. She donned her least fancy hat, and only put her loose dreadlocks into a simple, thick braid on her shoulder. While dressing, she could hear her mother's voice, as well as her childhood nanny's, telling her that she was wearing far too common clothing. Even though a good part of her wanted to obey those voices, she realized she wouldn't impress these people with her best clothing. In fact, she would alienate them even more. 

She picked up one of her favorite books, a volume of poetry that she'd had to have one of the maids smuggle into the house for her. Her mother didn't approve of Kijani reading such 'frivolous' things as poetry. Now she had the freedom to read what she liked, and she was going to enjoy it.

Once she was prepared, she headed back down the stairs with the book tucked under her arm. Taking the basket in her free hand, she smiled warmly at Feather. “Well, I'm off to Grandfather Apple. Don't work yourself too hard, dear Feather.” With that, she exited and started strolling down the road.

Before long, she was alone. Only the trees and the chirping morning birds were there for company. The scent of the apples and the leaves was rich in the air, and the light breeze carried the wonderful, far-away smells of bread baking, meat cooking. There were distant noises that she didn't recognize, but she figured them to be animals of some kind. 

Halfway to her destination, Kijani stopped, removing her hat to fan her face. Even though it wasn't particularly warm, she was getting tired. Her legs were getting sore, and her boots made her feet ache. Maybe Mr. Croil was right about the city air- she hadn't realized her body was this weak. Perhaps some time here would strengthen her. There was no carriage to carry her about. It was up to her own power to get her from place to place. She wouldn't let herself down.

The massive tree came into view after the next half of the walk, and Kijani had to work to keep her jaw from dropping. “Ohh...” It was beautiful, with branches as thick as a man's arm, and utterly tall. She couldn't even see around the trunk. The benches took her by surprise. She wondered if the previous owners had put them there? Or maybe even before that? Someone had seen the beauty of this place, that was for sure. She gratefully settled onto a bench, uncorking the jar of tea and taking grateful mouthfuls. Once she wasn't parched, she pulled out her book, and tugged off a piece of thick bacon. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed on it. She opened her book, and within moments was lost in a poem.