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The trees were thick and dense, the brush overgrown and left wild for generations. Only the unnatural ring of raised earth around grove of young trees hinted that this place was once was home to more than woodland beasts.
“It’s all but gone. Even the elders would not remember it. Worn away by time and the weather.”
The ringing of metal drawn from the scabbard gave fright to the first few birds to flee, finding their way back to foreign nests.
“It can be remade. Blood and iron built this place. Blood and iron will build it again.”
The first swings of the blade inaugurated the effort. Merely the clearing of weeds and vine, small vegetation and the occasional pest. Menial work to start, but a beginning all the same.
“We’ll have the ground clear by nightfall, enough to sleep on the ground and rest. When dawn breaks, we’ll begin to build shelter, Mr. Jameson.”
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Ancestor
15-Nov-2018 08:48:25
- Last edited on
15-Nov-2018 08:52:58
by
TheMendicant