A great wind raced out of the mountains to the north, bending treetops and snapping twigs, scattering dead leaves and the remnants of the harvest, chasing summer before it to the edge of the sea. In the vast forest beyond the village of Markan, there was no light at all save for the sputtering glow of a campfire at the back of a small clearing. Two men huddled over the stone-ringed flames, studiously ignoring the crawling shadows the fire cast on the lower branches. Their clothes were ragged and ill-fitting, singed in a few places that had nothing to do with the fire at hand, and their threadbare hooded cloaks were gathered around them like blankets. They could hear the wind, and were grateful they couldn't yet feel it; they couldn't see the stars. "I tell you, I have a bad feeling about this, Trax," the first man said. He was burly and tall, his face and hands scarred by knife and sword. In his left hand he held the slightly overcooked haunch of a scrawny rabbit. The rest of the animal was still on the spit over the flames.
What do You think about Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 01?
