“This is not a place that is fond of wonders.”
Cold were his words, but it was no longer just
himself his worries were laid upon.
♘—» “Has it become a crime to rest? I’ve traveled many leagues."
He rested back against the boulder, though his eyes never left the figure
before him. With the dying embers of the fire, he saw some shadowy
lines on his face. Though they could be wrinkles or worry marks, the man’s
voice seemed too young for that. Scratches, then.
"Y'sound uneasy, friend."
