He had returned to the world among pleasant people, and this was one of the finest mornings in early autumn that he had ever seen.
The country was much more heavily forested than usual.

At points, the woods turned into what John would almost have called a real forest.

Then they could not see very far ahead or to either side, but the road was good and the carts moved forward, though not at a pace too great for the walkers.
Picard carried a rifle over his shoulders, and John had secured an automatic.

All the soldiers were well armed.

John felt a singular lightness of heart, and, despite the forbidding glare of Suzanne, who was in the last cart, he spoke to Julie.
"It's too fine a morning for battle," he said in English.