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Annon’s observation about the clutter being a place to hide turned out to be prophetic, as he realized shortly after. The road was not chisel-straight, but meandered around blind turns and hooks, as if the woodcutters had all been drunk while working. Or perhaps deliberately creating blind spots to waylay travelers.
As they rounded one corner, Annon noticed the Preachán immediately, sitting atop a broken-down wagon on the edge of the road. His boot dangled off the edge and started tapping against the plank. With a wicked-looking dagger, he fussed with something under his fingernail.
Annon, Hettie, and Paedrin stopped as soon as he came into view. He was a handsome fellow, with reddish-brown hair that was untamed. Though slight of build, he seemed bigger wearing a coat made of black leather with buckles and straps around the arms and shoulders. It was cured leather, not fancy leather. Leather meant to protect him. He wore black pants as well, with green and gold stitching along the leg, and a wide belt with an enormous buckle. There was another knife in his boot cuff. A small blade at his hip, as well as three more stuck in the wagon frame, within easy reach. A ruff of white at his throat displayed several jeweled necklaces, including a Druidecht talisman.
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Cat skulls spirit board wicca face mask
The road was wide enough for three or four carts to go by at a time, which made sense because goods came to and from the city each day. The ruts were worn to dust and nothing grew in them at all; not even weeds could withstand the constant tromping of hooves, the crushing weight of wagon wheels, or the trod of people.
The three of them entered the lane and started toward the city at a strong walk, having finished a meal at midday a little earlier. There were signs nailed to trees, offers of cargo or passage. Trunks had been gouged for firewood or hacked at by bored mercenaries for no reason. There was not even a whisper of thought in the air from the spirits. The cruelty shown to the forest was an abomination to them. No wonder they had all fled. The desecration of the woods outraged Annon.
Garbage littered the fringe of the path—broken crates, frayed ropes, a few smashed barrels. All were abandoned, including several wagons, all of which were missing wheels. It was disgusting and brought out Annon’s loathing. He felt unprotected, for there would be no spirits to draw upon for help. The woods of Havenrook felt like the city of Kenatos—devoid of sentient life. His fingers tingled with heat after passing another rotting carcass of a wagon.
Glancing at Hettie, he noticed her scowling and wondered if she too were offended.
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice, drawing near her. He wondered if there were any Druidecht at all in the kingdom.
Seeing she had been observed, she gave a cynical smile. “Romani wagons,” she answered, nodding toward a dilapidated set. “I am expecting we will cross paths with a caravan or two on our way.”
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Annon’s observation about the clutter being a place to hide turned out to be prophetic, as he realized shortly after. The road was not chisel-straight, but meandered around blind turns and hooks, as if the woodcutters had all been drunk while working. Or perhaps deliberately creating blind spots to waylay travelers.
As they rounded one corner, Annon noticed the Preachán immediately, sitting atop a broken-down wagon on the edge of the road. His boot dangled off the edge and started tapping against the plank. With a wicked-looking dagger, he fussed with something under his fingernail.
Annon, Hettie, and Paedrin stopped as soon as he came into view. He was a handsome fellow, with reddish-brown hair that was untamed. Though slight of build, he seemed bigger wearing a coat made of black leather with buckles and straps around the arms and shoulders. It was cured leather, not fancy leather. Leather meant to protect him. He wore black pants as well, with green and gold stitching along the leg, and a wide belt with an enormous buckle. There was another knife in his boot cuff. A small blade at his hip, as well as three more stuck in the wagon frame, within easy reach. A ruff of white at his throat displayed several jeweled necklaces, including a Druidecht talisman.
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