I blame ysabetwordsmith for this piece.  I was reading her poem With His Boots On when the first sentence came into my head.  The execution of the idea is entirely my own fault.

Eldis stomped through the forest.  Well, it had been a forest when he’d first been here.  When he’d died here, Brekkis’ knife in his back.

Now it was a village.  A strange village to his ( Read more... )