Trail of BloodEdit
Saws we them
man o'moons faces,
rounds o'glows brights
in them summer night sky,
saids them to us that
winter comes earlies,
summer is gone,
and the harvest is fled.
-- From a Pagan song
The portal from the graveyard deposited me in a grove of trees and the wounded
Pagan I was following is nowhere in sight. He's carrying Mosley's letter and I'd
still like to know where he's heading with it.
but there's some blood on the ground. I'm hoping he's in too much of a hurry to stop and
tend to that wound so he'll leave a trail of blood that I can follow, that's unless he
bleeds to death before he gets where he's going.