Departure

Two Weeks Later Time rushes on like a wind tearing through a mine shaft-cleans away the stench of gunpowder, and carries fresh life on its current. Devon’s troops dismantled the temporary encampment; Green canvas tents collapsed into neat squares, while trucks rumbled along the mining district's dirt roads, churning up dust that glowed golden in the setting sun. The Rogue pack territory had been swept clean. The trenches were pitted with fresh earth, and the ramshackle shelters were replaced by log cabins smelling of sawdust. The female slaves hauled the bedding into their interstices, and their laughter carried sharp and bright on the breeze. Most of the miners from the North have not survived the border clashes. Robin and Hans fall in mid-charge and are buried unmarked by the edge of the canyon. Under Dr. Stephen’s careful treatment, Linda’s facial scars finally softened, revealing skin as smooth as polished river stone. On the eve of our departure, clutching a pouch of wild berries