When Morg reached the source of the smoke, it was as he’d
feared. Teetering ruins, still smoldering, stood in place of the houses and inn
he remembered from the day before. He didn’t bother looking for survivors; the
scattered bodies of men, women, and children assured him there were none.
Instead, he went from body to body to see if any had usable parts. That way
their deaths might not be in vain.
The first few bodies were ruined by sword and sun. But
eventually he found one under some rubble; dead from a single stab wound to the
neck.
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