Kevan arrived in advance with a big basket on top of Tymagon in which bottles, jugs and jars were rattling. He picked up a picturesque spot on the high ground above the current amid gentle shade of a few pines, and kicked the cones off the general area before setting the picnic up. Bread, cheeses, roasted lamb, smoked venisons and a bit of early spring produce, and wine, of course. The place still smelled of spring rain. He waited leaning against the pine, staring around at the view with a stupidly happy smile defining his expression.