CHANNILLO

Wanderer (1)
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           The siblings ate their breakfast in the middle of a graveyard. They moved slowly, stiff from the previous day’s work of collecting the remains of their fallen fellows and digging graves in the clearing. The earth was soft, but the work was still hard, and they had not buried the fallen men as deeply as was customary. Still, they had done their best. They’d even fashioned crude crosses from tree branches as grave markers. One man was missing. They had found all of the deserters horses, though, savaged and partially eaten. Their own horses, along with Sir Gregor’s were still securely tied to the trees, but they were acting jumpy. They barely grazed, and at every snapping branch, they stomped their feet and nickered to each other softly.

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