Random Chapter#1
CHAPTER # The old man sits on the side of a hill, surrounded by tall, dense trees that conspire to hide him. His name is Jebbe. He has been, for most of his life, a smuggler. He thought he had retired. But he thought wrong, because here he is, on one of his routes from the days of the war again. He sits, as if carved from wood, or molded in clay. Unmoving, almost unbreathing. His cloak is covered in haphazard splashes of grunge from the ground he sits on. The hood is drawn low over a face painted with mud that fills the web of ridges in the skin below. In doing this, in a way, it makes him young again. In the crook of his arm, like a baby, he holds a light calibre EM carbine. Its dark metal is sheathed in the mangy hide of an animal that died by its shot, when the weapon was new, a long, long time ago. And the weapon is older than the man who holds it. In broad...