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. "Did you hear what that man said just
before running off?"
"You mean the part about 'Let Skorm Bonelover take
them'?" Fanris finished nervously. "I heard it. What does it
mean? Who's Skorm Bonelover?"
Graym was checking the fallen barrel. "An idle threat.
Poor man, I don't think he was happy." He examined the
sprung staves.
"You may be a cooper," Darll said, "but you can't mend
that."
Graym felt along the keg sides, skilled hands finding
the sprung barrel stave. "Not on the road," he said
reluctantly. "And it's over half full still."
The Wolf brothers edged forward hopefully. "Be a
shame to let it go to waste, Fan."
"Right again, Fen."
Jarek, rubbing his head, looked meaningfully at the
bung-puller stored inside the cart.
"Half a keg of Skull-Splitter Premium. Well . . ."
Graym sighed loudly, then smiled. "Not a bad place to
camp."
*****
They waited until nightfall to light the fire, so no one
would see the smoke. They hung a shield of blankets around
the fire to hide the light. Both were Darll's idea. Graym saw
no need for such precautions, but was willing to humor him.
The sunset was blood red, like every one had been since
the Cataclysm.
Graym sipped at the bowl of Skull-Splitter and said, to
no one in particular, "Life is attitude - good or bad." He
waved an arm at the desolate landscape. "What do you
see?"
Darll grunted. "What else? Disaster. Broken trees,
clogged streams, fallen buildings, and a godsforsaken
broken road rougher than a troll's - "
"That's your problem, sir
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