At that point I was trying to work out how nervous I ought to be.

This is about double actual size. It just needed to be big.

If you like this, there are more like it here.

I confess at times like that I found it difficult to connect to my sense of adventure.

It is a bit of a blur. If I’d not written it down then I wouldn’t trust my own memory of it now.

He really was one of the most abrasive people I’d ever met.  But what were the plans he mentioned?

His aggressive tone made it clear he’d not rescued me for any reason other than that he had a sense of duty to Scar. He was about as friendly as month-old milk. He radiated hate so strongly I could almost see it, like summer heat over a cobblestone road.

What had he done to have been sent to the gallows?

His glare was utterly chilling. I could well believe they’d try to stretch his neck, and I could well believe he’d done something to deserve it. But what I couldn’t understand was why Scar would have saved him from hanging. Why him? Was there anyone who could safely use a tool that dangerous?

It really was so odd that the boar did nothing. Did they just use it as intimidation?

The Knights of the Shroud use certain hand signs to signal different messages in certain situations, and it was by these that I was supposed to recognize my guide, but by last call nobody in the tavern had signaled me. Why? It wasn’t long before I found out.