Alexandru had, at least, managed to salvage a matchlock arquebus and a quantity of lead shot from the battlefield, and had kept his own sword, which would certainly come in handy if he needed something with which to run himself through before wild animals could maul him to death.
Lost in such miserable thoughts, and close to fainting in the saddle in any case, he paid little attention to his route. He had deviated from the road some time ago, and was now plodding forgotten and overgrown tracks through dense woodland, with no fellow-traffic save the occasional rabbit (although the occasional not-too-distant howl suggested that he would soon have plenty of ravenous company).