With that, the two of them slept, the centaur remaining on his haunches, and Astor curled up on the floor and covered himself with moss and dried grass for warmth. The next morning, as the embers smouldered on the once-burning fire, Astor awoke to see Firenze was gone. For a moment, he wondered if it all had been some feverish dream, but the fact that he felt refreshed from the water and sustenance convinced him that he was in a centaur camp. There was a rustle of leaves from the bushes, and Firenze appeared with a pair of slaughtered conies resting over his shoulders. Without making conversation, he skinned the rabbits and placed their innards in the pot with herbs and carrots. Next, he filled it close to the brim with water he had gathered from the river and set the fire ablaze again.  Still, the centaur didn't talk as he prepared breakfast, and Astor was still too drowsy to think of anything to say. After eating and slurping the delicious stew in wooden bowls that the centaur had hand-crafted, they sat together, listening to the sound of the forest. As the sun shone in the sky, the Forbidden Forest didn't seem as foreboding anymore, and Astor allowed himself to relax for a moment. Firenze broke the silence after they had finished digesting their food.