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Chapter 85: Empty Shells
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Chapter 87: Black Thorns
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... sta wreckage, tearing into a slab of roasted meat the size of his forearm.
Whatever beast that came from, it died ugly and cooked fast. The firelight catches the grease on his beard and the deep lines carved into his face.
He looks up when he hears my boots. Reaches into the pile beside him and holds out a chunk of charred meat without a word.
I take it. I drop to one knee beside him.
I don’t eat. I just hold the meat and stare at it, watching the heat curl off th ...
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