CHANNILLO

Bane and the Breeding
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Bane tried not to yawn for the millionth time this morning but couldn’t help it. He had woken up at 8:30 and dressed to leave with Arvan for nine so Bane could hunt down herbs and Havoc could hunt. The sun had been bright but the air kept its coolness. Bane was comfortable in his sweater, cargo pants, and knee high boots.

He carried a satchel on his left shoulder, the strap going diagonally across his chest so the bag itself bopped against his right hip. He loved this satchel. It was black leather and its over pouch had tones of pockets and zippers to store herb gathering equipment while the actual bag part had enough room for a lot of collection jars.

If his satchel got full he had huge pockets in his cargo pants: one on each butt cheek, one on each hip and a third near his knees....

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