Back home.

He had his pint of ale, he had his clothing and yet he did not feel pleased with his trip to the town. There was no one to blame. With the festivities and preparations, he couldn't have expected many to be in the tavern.
Looking down the road he could hear his dogs and a smile pulled his lips, he had them still. A glance was thrown over his shoulder to look around wondering if maybe someone else was heading this way to return to their own home but the road was his.
The door was pushed open and as before the three greeted him with wagging tails as they circled his legs, curious eyes looking at the bundle of cloth in his arms.
He spoke to them briefly and left the door half open to allow the dogs to wander in and out while he put aside his clothing and prepared some coffee for himself.
Before long he had poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and grabbed a few biscuits that he had been given to take home earlier and stuffed them into his pocket while he made his way outside to settle down on a small bench he kept by the door.
Maybe a lost wanderer would find his way here. He could always hope, their stories were always interesting to hear. With all the baking going on maybe a fair woman would come and visit to ask for a new feather so she could brush the dough with egg wash. Maybe someone was looking for a lost pet and would happen down this road. 
He smiled to himself and held the hot cup between his hands to warm them, now and then enjoying a sip of the rich, black liquid he'd come to enjoy over the years. There were plenty of things that could happen and he could always hope for something or someone interesting to wander their way to visit.
The oldest of the dogs climbed the stairs and sat down beside the bench, the man's hand absentmindedly outstretching to rest on top of the dog's head, gently stroking over the soft fur while he stared off into the distance in front of him and losing himself in idle thoughts. It would be another week before he'd visit the town again.