The Apocalypse has decimated much of the Western Mainland, Krankton County has seen the least amount of damage and destruction, Yegmor County not as lucky and the other regions are said to be void of life. Thrivenshell, the life jewel of the Krankton County, is perhaps the only standing and remnant imago of a civilized community. Other settlements and communities were either completely destroyed by the Storm, looted to the very timbers or witnessed unspeakable carnage from the madness the Apocalypse has brought. It has been two rough years since the Apocalypse first announced its grim presence, and took the world by storm, leaving men equal to beasts and monsters with no empathy for life. One man, with the aid of a few, was able to restore the destroyed town of Thrivenshell back to its former glory, a lot should be discussed as to how it was done, but the townspeople and the newcomers appreciate it enough to keep a silent curiosity.

Baron Garef
The Baron's Palace, a mansion on the outskirts of town.

"Baron, the men are ready for your address today at Town, should I have them escort you there?" Said a man in a polite tone, dressed well in a kind manner, groomed and good smelling. The Baron was just about finished with his cufflinks, putting on his black coat and adjusting his pose before the mirror.

"Appearances Grimly, they make a man or break him. It doesn't matter what sort of inclination or good intentions one harbors, if the appearances don't match. I take quite the pride in the image I try to show people, and certainly it is the image I consciously know is best." The Baron walked over to Grimly, patted him on his shoulder and held his eyes confidently, "And a paranoid Tyrant is the last image I have the desire to bestow upon my fellow men."

The Baron walked out of his dressing room, the sun rays penetrating the white shades, he decided to wake up early that day and beat the townspeople to the Plaza. The image he perhaps was trying to radiate is that of a kind and confident leader, beneath his skin however crawled anxiety and a sense of doubt. For the past two years everything was in control, no matter how short the town ran on resources, or how many times rogue mad men attacked, it was all in control. So it must have been something that awakened a newly found doubt in the Baron, something that he must have seen in his deep slumbers. An omen, or perhaps just the facts that his personal town inspector has been feeding him last week. Thrivenshell is running low on important resources. Ammunition is running low, the wells are drying out, the food corps are not yielding enough harvest, and the morale is in constant downfall. Thrivenshell would be fine for the next three months, but then it will begin its slow but exponential downfall, men will tear men for a piece of meat.

Decisions had to be made, things are to change, his Elites should be put to a new sort of use. The Baron decided today was the best day to address the townspeople on the situation, on the fear of his doubts, for today marked the town's two years anniversary of rebirth and sustenance of life.

"Grimly, if you happen to see Breckinridge on your way to town, please tell him should things go south, I have full blind trust in him." The Baron got out of his mansion through the main door, whistled for his stead, a man walked it to him. "Elisif, you are beautiful today. Thanks for the care Bradle." The man bowed his head in silence and walked back to his post.

The Baron caressed the silky black braids of his Elisif, he took his time giving back to his horse, whatever he thought he was giving back it worked to stimulate the horse. He got on top of it, mounted it like an old King would, and marched alone to Thrivenshell's main Plaza. On his way he saw some farmers waking up, he greeted them with a wide grin and a confident gesture. His insides were slowly betraying him, but he fought the dread of building doubt by appreciating the beautiful skyline. The Elenor mountains brushed against the horizon, blurred but never absent. The Apocalypse may have taken the humanity of many, emptied places of life, but it could never take the grace of the skies.

The Baron would eventually reach the Plaza and wait to meet with the Sheriff before beginning the day, his men and a few of the Elites would follow him when more people presented themselves. He never wanted to be surrounded with armed men, but many attempts at his life in the past taught him that blind trust in the good of the environment is a fool's way.

"Judge, please... you know me. We went out and killed that Lead&Whiskey gang together, remember? Remember that Judge? You want to leave Lily a widow over an accident? Judge! I was drunk Judge! Beauregard! I- I didn't mean to do it, please!"

The man standing at the gallows was in hysterics at that point, tears flowing freely down his face. Indeed, Judge did remember the John Ford, remember Lily. They had been his friends all these years since John joined his posse that began his career. A career that sadly brought them to this current situation.

His eyes coldly swept over his old friend, and then over the crowd. His shouting had begun to stir a couple of them, making them question whether what they were doing was right. Judge had no such questions. Justice was above friendship, keeping the town from chaos was above friendship. Above allowing a drunk man to murder another for insulting his wife.

If John had killed once while taken by drink, who was to say he could control himself next time after going free? No. There would be no mercy this day. Slowly, Judge raised his hand to silence the crowd, and his old friend's sobbing.

"This is the result of drink. Men lose control of themselves, and become beasts. A bullet for an insult is not justice, and I will not tolerate murder within the town of Thrivenshell. John Ford is a man I have held great respect for throughout my life, but his crimes are that of a common animal. For that, he shall receive the gallows, not the sword."

A young deputy, William, stepped behind John and put a black hood over his head before the man could begin protesting once more. Lily let out a final wail before collapsing, and the deputy checked the noose before giving Judge a nod. It was time.

"Because I hold such respect for John, I have made sure the rope is long enough to make his death quick. Those of you who are his friends can be assured he will not suffer. For the peace of Thrivenshell, I sentence death upon John Ford. May this serve as a warning against drink, and beastly instincts."

When he spoke the final words, the floor fell open beneath his old friend, and a sickening snap echoed out across the small crowd. The body would remain there for a day, before being taken down for a proper burial. Judge would pay for the service himself, being set in his duty did not make him a monster.

Not that he suspected Lily would forgive him regardless.

He turned away from the site earlier than usual, the Baron would be speaking soon, and it was customary for Judge to accompany the man. He could suspect what this was going to be about, the people weren't stupid and rumours had been spreading already about the lack of resources. Prices had already began to rise across the board in town, the bullet John had wasted the night before was easily worth a meal at this point.

Rounding another corner, he spotted the Baron and his entourage. He gave a nod of greeting before falling in next to the man.

"John Ford was hanged today, an old friend and a shame. Drink overtook him and murder resulted, I would caution again against letting the stuff be sold."

The Rift

The depths of the Rift can be a place that harbors and homes much madness and feelings of being lost, in time, of purpose and of humanity. Ruth could never recollect how he got to where he is, the last thing he remembers was tracking the Devil outside of Thrivenshell. He was laying down, devastated both in his mind and soul. He looked around, sand, and no sign of life. He tried to get up on his feet and have a sense of direction, he looked up where the sun burned in a shy glare. It must be one hell of a climb, the top of the Rift seems like an impossible far, how was he ever able to get this deep into the Rift. He wonders, ponders, and checks his revolvers, battered and crying sand as he gave them a shake and put them back in his holsters.

The clearing where he was slumbering in seemed pretty large to attract the behemoths of the Rift, but his skin is intact, he wished his sanity was. The devil must have lured him deep down, only to shock him with the revelation that Ruth was spiraling down into his own grave. Ruth looked around, tried to examine way out of the Rift, somewhere somehow he needed to get out and resume his manhunt. Devilhunt.

"Morning Handsome." It was a soft voice, one that alludes a virgin lamb caretaker, calling him out in a distant echo. He balanced the voice inside his head, made sure it wasn't something his brain produced. The voice called again for his name, in the most delicate tone a voice can have in this cursed wasteland. He finally saw the source of the lullaby, and he certainly hoped it was a figment of his imagination.

"You are?" Ruth replied conservatively, his fast gunslinger fingertips at the ready on the butt of his revolver. The figure spoke no more, instead it got up and walked slowly and quite smoothly away into a cave. Ruth followed after, calling out again, but the figure kept luring him into a darker place. "Come, I want to show you something now that you are awake."

Ruth followed, the figure began to take shape as his head became much more pristine, it was a woman. Her hair was black, her skin was reflective with a blue hue, and she was naked except for a huge transparent sheet wrapped around her. She had a body most women would kill for, a voice the local bards would sell their souls for... his thoughts went a bit too far, he suspected the presence of the devil. She glared at the thought and smiled, "come now, the Devil can wait Ruth."

He followed. Fingers at the ready, though he wasn't sure his bullets would do.

The Legend of One-Eyed Iris

---

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"King Me!" A scrawny man called out in victory as he pressed his advantage. He had his opponent in a full rout and there was nothing she could do about it as he excitedly flipped his red checker token to reveal the faded and worn image of a yellow crown. It was his third king while his opponent had none. He was going to win. Again. "So, Katherine, did you want to give up now or shall I drag out your punishment?" He asked snidely with an emphasis on the woman's name, trying to rub in his victory. Much to the disappointment of the clearly skilled checkers player, his opponent did not react his mocking question but rather, he noticed a slight twitch at the mention of the woman's name. For a second, it almost seemed like both parties shrugged off the comment as an awkward silence washed over the room but then the woman spoke.

"Why did you use my real name?" Katherine asked plainly, sounding almost uninterested in the answer. The scrawny man's head dropped as he averted his gaze from the Katherine's cold stare. "Oh, well, I just thought since we weren't... You know. A part of that anymore. I figured we were over the nicknames." The man brought his head up when he finished but the moment he caught sight of her 'bad eye' he couldn't look anymore and instead turned to admire the barred view of the outside. A man was being hung today and the man knew that his day with that rope would come soon.

Maybe it was the silence that had come back or maybe it was the prospect of dying but the man felt the need to ask one last thing despite fearing the reaction of such a heavy question. He figured he was a dead man anyway so why not ask. "Why did you do it?"

Katherine's good eye flickered and it almost went unnoticed but the man always had been good at picking up on subtle things like that. In truth, Katherine had always admired the man for his brain. How the man, who could have been a doctor or teacher, ended up taking the route he did, the woman would never know.

For the third time, silence seemed like it would be the woman's answer to the man's question but after a minute, finally she responded. "In my position, what would you do?" She asked, still not betraying her emotionless monotone state. The man sighed with a slight annoyance that he was answered with yet another question, but he would oblige. "Honestly, Katherine, Iris, or whatever you want to be called, I probably wouldn't have made the same decision."

The answer was a surprise to Katherine and she tilted her head, slightly squinting her eyes in question of the man. The man waited for a brief moment to allow Katherine to interject but nothing came so he continued. "Higgy, Pint, Bison.. YOU killed them and betrayed ME so I ended up here!" The man grabbed the black iron bars of his cell and shook his arms as if trying to rip the bars open. "You betrayed all of us and out of all of us, you let Lars escape! The worst piece of shit to ever walk this fucked up world!" The man removed one hand from the iron bar and slammed his arm against the cold iron as he vented his frustration. "I mean come on! If you were to let anyone escape it should have been me!" The man pulled away from the bars of his prison cell and rubbed his skinny arm where it had hit the bar. "Ugh. Forget it. It is too late now and I doubt you'd be willing to take my place." The man said, sounding more tired than angry at this point.

Katherine rose from her seat, remaining quiet as she moved her chair and the checkerboard away from the cell before standing before the man's cell. "Goodbye, Zip." The monotone woman finally betrayed her emotionless tone and added a similar sarcastic taunt to the Zip's real name as he did with her just moments ago. Zip threw his hand up, ushering the woman to leave and turned to face his view of the gallows just as in time to witness another man be hung by the Judge of Thrivenshell.

---

The Baron was gathering his Elites in the plaza today and as one, Kate was expected to be there. While it may be a compliment to some, it felt like a collar to the ex-convict who hung in a limbo state for her formal pardon. Until the day she could acquire the last remaining member of the Higgy Bottom Boys, she has been bound to serve the Baron and his whims. The man reeked of something but Kate only had a good eye for trouble and never a good nose to sniff it out and the Baron was as careful as could be with his secrets.

Kate had mounted up and proceeded to the plaza just in time to see Sheriff Beauregard complain about losing his 'friend' to the drink. Kate's good eye wandered up to gallows and saw the hooded man gently sway in the wind. Though Kate's brief impression of their relationship told her that she had no reason to believe that Beauregard had actually cared for the man enough to prevent the man's hanging, she had to admit "Judge" sounded very serious in regards to banning alcohol entirely. "Yes, you surely seem to be in grief over your friend, Judge." Kate said aloud as she rode up alongside Baron and Judge. "I suggest a pint of the drink will ease things for you." She added with a smirk, hinting at her snide taunt.

The blistering yellow light beat down on these plains white sands heavily. Severt B. Forbes followed wherever the rays pointed. These days did not mean much more to him anymore, but it wasn't something he minded. Forbes had always wanted to see the world his way. It was a shame he no longer had a horse to traverse these treacherous lands, so that would mean camping out more and taking longer breaks under the stars. For now he was calm, a little peckish and hydrated; expect for his hands, charred like leather that grabbed for his waterskin as he took a deep swig, water dribbling down his cheek. Forbes wasn't far from a city, one of the best civilizations he has seen since the apocalypse in fact. It wasn't of his intentions to arrive here, but perhaps he could find something of interest. A number of old travelers he met up with prior to his journey spoke of demons that roamed around this area, and rumors of spirits that now walk the earth in physical form to fulfill some kind of devotion. That was a concept Forbes only partially understood, but could perceive very well. May it be man, monster, or phantom, he was ready for anything.

Upon approaching the city a gust of wind blew through the area causing Forbes' worn duster coat to flare behind him exposing the two sandalwood grips of his .40 double action revolvers, and a sack that hangs over his torso via sling. In response his hat was tipped downwards to avoid getting an eye full of dust brought up from the ground below. His toes curled slightly and the wind began to settle down, and his keen eyes narrow to where he can inspect his surroundings and get a good look at the town. Forbes always liked to be aware of his environment and he always was, it made him feel more comfortable. This was a town of an unknown name, at least to Forbes as he proceeded onward into the settlement before him.

Quaint little place it is. he thought to himself, pondering one slow step after another. I seemed to have a pretty even population, citizens here and there doing their own thing. It was interesting to see how the world moved on, how such simple things could become commodities. By far, this had been the most well off town that Forbes has strolled into since the last two years. Infrastructure looked passable, if not comfy and the feeling of dread no longer hanged over him. A smoothly rolled tobacco cigarette burned halfway down was crossed to the corner of Forbes mouth once he took a long drag and released a plume of gray smoke into the air. It dissipated above him as he wandered to a table of three young, ugly looking folk with forlorn expressions on their faces. For a second he said nothing, standing next to them before speaking in his deep tone that hadn't been used for days.

"Boys know where I can eat?"

The scent of campfire smoke wafted through the still crisp air of the morning, it was only a few hours before dawn and Black Fox had made good time by dim grey light of the waxing moon. She could see the dying orange glow of the camp coals below from where she knelt on hills ridge. Earlier that week there had been talk among a few of the outskirt farmers that three unsavoury sorts on horseback had been seen skulking around the crop borders of Thrivenshell, once word had reached the Baron's guardhouse Black Fox suggested that she was the one to investigate. Performing her own private rituals she donned her tribes charcoal stain hunting markings across her face and set off on her fastest horse.

It hadn't taken more than a few hours to find the group of after she picked up their trail. The 'yellow-skin' or Wasichu by her native tongue were obviously inexperienced or careless, perhaps both as they left the Thrivenshell boundary and followed them from a distance as the twisted burning sun set behind the dry barren landscape.

Scrawny tired looking horses were tethered not to far from where three sleeping bodies lay in the dirt around the campfire and Black Fox slowly began her silent decent down the ridge towards their temporary camp. Earlier in the evening Black Fox had listened to the fools talk of their plans to begin raiding the outer farms of their supplies or ever they could get their grubby fat hands on as they sat around their fire filling their bellies with drink. They didn't know how well voices carried in the darkness. A distant high pitch howl echoed in the distance as Black Fox Swift moved in on the trio, unsheathing her smaller pointed skinning knife she whispered a prayer into the morning air.
Her decision was made without hesitation.
Her method would be quick but brutal.
Her ancestors would be pleased.

***

Dust kicked up and swirled around her tall bay mounts causing him to snort heavily as rode along the road, reaching down she rested a hand on the crest of his long black mane. It was just before mid morning when she reached the guard camp with three extra horses in tow, the guards on duty knew better and took the horses without question as Black Fox continued on towards the town plaza.

The Baron reached the Palaza and there seemed to be some sort of commotion, his thoughts and doubts about the town, keeping him preoccupied all night, made him forget about the hanging of one John Ford. The Baron approached the crowd on his high horse, there was a split-second moment where something malicious was lit ablaze in his eyes, everything going slow, everyone below him. He was quick to dismiss the dreamy thought, got down from his horse and one of his men immediately took after it. The Baron greeted those that were eyeing him, shook hands with a few elderly, being extra courteous that day. He could see the Judge standing still, the Baron understood what he was going through and he certainly understood his whims of justice, and the greater good.

Judge walked over to the Baron, he was this town's sheriff and a close person to the Baron, not that they truly trust one another. The Baron always had a certain amount of respect for Beauregard however, and that respect slowly grew into admiration every day. The judge said something about Alcohol, and the Baron jokingly replied, "You worry about the gallows, I will worry about running this town, Judge." The baron held a serious face, but his reply was more friendly and he made sure that impression got through. The baron commended the judge's work, and told him he appreciated his sense of justice, even when it came to close friend. As the Baron was discussing the details of John Ford, a young One-Eyed Iris approached the two men, the Baron forced a smile and greeted. He knew this one, he heard of her story and of her commitment to redeem herself. She was working for him, indirectly, for as long as she fulfills her end of the deal, catching every last one of the Higgy Bottom Boys.

"I will deliver the speech and after that all three of us will have a drink, you included exclusively Judge. On me." The judge signaled one of his men to round up the townspeople in preparation for his speech. He came back to the Judge and Iris, they were conversing, he asked to be excused as he made his way to the Ford widow. The Baron knew John Ford, in honesty the Baron knew each and every one of his townspeople. He walked over to the widow, carefully and trying to look as humble as this harsh world would allow. He stood before Lily Ford and offered a handkerchief, she was bitter, she held her tears and had a dangerous look. One that the Baron is very familiar with. She nodded after a while and took the handkerchief, the Baron payed his respects, and before leaving he declined to retrieve his handkerchief.

"Keep it, you will give it to me tonight in my palace. There is much to talk about, and you could use the company. You are free to dismiss the invitation, but I a must insist." The Baron held Lily Ford's gentle hand, looked at the body of her husband slowly swinging in the most morbid fashion, and kissed her farewell. The Baron adjusted his lapels, his men following him as he made a fast stride atop the hanging platform. He paused, then grabbed the attention of the townspeople with a clap, "Gather around friends, family, and loved ones. There is something we must talk about, something I must address you. I don't think this will be news, or any sort of revelation hence it is a fact we are witnessing. THRIVENSHELL is in danger, in danger of crumbling from within. The causes? Demons, our own Human Nature, after all, we are living in a world that has moved on. Resources are dwindling my people, and that can cause a lot of troubles, conflicts we may deem too ugly to imagine."

The Baron kept a cheerful tone as he went on with his speech, the people were admiring his honesty and visions, some were gloomily skeptical but still saw his efforts. It disturbed him internally, the burden that lays on his shoulders, the things he must do and yet have not. The Baron men's stood beside him, two of the Elites were present, and one of the best was approaching the plaza. Fox, his favorite Elite.

The three ugly boys looked at Severt for a moment and blinked. It was clear they did not understand him the first time, so he asked again.

"You boys know where I can eat?" this time a little louder.

"Might get somethin' to eat at the bar." one of the young ones spoke from the back. Severt had no idea where the bar was but never had a problem finding his own way before, so that didn't bother him a bit. He waved them off before scuffing his boots in the earth below and kicking up a small fit of sand beneath him. The atmosphere around the town was almost dreary, but that didn't stop the 41 year old from maintaining such an alert presence. Exploring the town was stopped short when a tall man wearing formal attire began towards a hanging platform and clapped to grab the attention from a conglomerate of people. It seemed obvious that he was a man who held some form of power in the town, however Forbes was struggling to find out which kind it was. By this time his hunger had set aside for a moment and was left with curiosity. He dropped the tobacco butt from his mouth after exhaling another gray cloud and stomped it out with his heel. Forbes preferred having a view of everything around him so he did not bother to approach the crowd of people, but rather listen to the man from afar.

The man didn't speak a whole lot. His voice was deep, deeper than his by some. One thing did catch the attention of Severt. "THRIVENSHELL is in danger, in danger of crumbling from within. The causes? Demons, our own Human Nature, after all, we are living in a world that has moved on. Resources are dwindling my people, and that can cause a lot of troubles, conflicts we may deem too ugly to imagine." Demons. Forbes was unsure of whether they existed but has faint memories that would suggest he has encountered one within. Lowly times these were, ever since the apocalypse. He could usually tell when someone was lying or not, he had a good sense of empathy and knew how to tell what someone else was feeling; what intentions they had in store. The man's tall figure reminded him of his childhood friend Aubrey. A man with high stature and a good head on his shoulders. This man, politician or who be it, seemed to have the same on his. This being said, he was skeptical, as he was to anyone else. When Forbes found himself a little more comfortable he approached the crowd a little more, but not too close, still just yet a little ways back.

Wonder if these citizens operate off of fear or inspiration. Severt wondered. Only time will tell. Above him, a crow spread jet black wings and sounded off. That was when he really started to listen.

Judge merely grunted in response to the Baron's dismissal of his request. It was matter they'd gone over many times, and although he truly believed it would cut back on incidents and strife within town, he let the matter drop. At the very least, he figured it would make it easier to distinguish the two types of criminals. Men who turned into beasts when substances took hold of them, and monsters merely wearing mens' skins. The former was always a shame to put down, the latter... Could be described as a pleasure to hunt for the sheriff. For a brief moment, the smell of the burning Lead&Whiskey gang filled his nose as clear as the day he had hunted the monsters down, but he pushed the memory aside as a woman approached.

Of course, "a" woman was hardly the description she deserved. Iris as she was known, Judge knew not how much of the woman was beast and how much of her was monster, but he had been furious upon learning the Baron wanted her to avoid justice. The logic of it was sound, of course, the sheriff wouldn't argue against that. He wasn't fit to ride out against men of the gang's caliber, and any deputies he sent would likely be killed. The Baron's Elites could do the job well enough, but they were busy just trying to keep supplies moving into town. Yes, the logic of it Beauregard could respect, but the principle infuriated him. So far, either word of the leniency hadn't reached the people or it hadn't caused any additional strife, but if it somehow caused more crime to start springing up...

He had no time to finish the line of thought as she finished her approach, and set her eyes on him. The empty eye of hers bothered him as much as it would any man, but he never shirked from her gaze, willpower was something his job demanded of him on a daily basis. Her taunts dug deeper than he would ever allow to show, and he could almost feel his emotions clawing at the back of his mind. Love for the man now hanging. Respect for the work they had done together. Grief at not being able to share a final joke. Sympathy for poor Lily. Loneliness.

He forced them into silence though. There would be time for emotion another hour, another day. Instead, caught between not wanting to give Iris the satisfaction of a response, and needing to reaffirm his own humanity he spoke:

"It must be hard for you to understand, having to kill an old friend and companion for the greater good. Instead of killing them for your own selfish interests."

He was not interested in her response, with any luck she would die in her mission of 'redemption'. Instead he turned his attention to the Baron and his speech. It was a simple enough opening, but Judge was not privy to what the goal of the mayor was this day. He doubted it was just a simple attempt at boosting morale. Something was being set into motion today.

But what?

The mid morning sun beat down down upon her shoulders as Fox quietly rode to the edge of the gathered crowd. Since the fall the weather had become less than idyllic with bitterly cold nights and sweltering dry hot days, nothing ever in between. This of course had a ongoing effect on the landscape with the towns crops withering off before harvest and others never reaching seedlings. Livestock also suffered along with the native herd animals, lack of fodder meant many starved or became so weak they became prey to the more vicious beasts that roamed the unforgiving lands.
Small beads of sweat gathered around her brow of her brimmed hat as she lifted her reins signalling her horse to a halt before sliding off and tying him loosely to the tie post. At least half the town had turned up to hear the Baron preach, his deep voice carried over the murmuring crowd and soothing her anxiety slowly brewing in her gut. The Baron was preaching what she had already known for such a long time. Fox untied her saddle bag and slipped over her shoulder, she wanted to trade the goods she took from the souls last night before meeting with the Baron.

Fox scanned over faces searching for those familiar as she edged closer to the Barons voice, each set of eyes she glanced into promptly avoided her as she walked, it was like she carried a disease or sickness that no fool wanted to catch. Judge was obviously hard at work again from the body hanging from the gallows. For most of the time she avoided him, not out of hatred or disdain but merely there had been no need for her to associate with him. Of course they had crossed paths on the rare occasion but keeping each other at arms length and never revealing more than needed.

A screeching caw pulled her attention to the sky, a lone crow circled effortlessly above. Softly she kept making her way through the crowd squinting into the sun as she watched the black bird remembering long ago when Grandmother whipped one of her older brothers for throwing stones at the crows, her stern words reminding him 'that crow is a powerful ancestor, his song a message you would be wise to listen'. Fox sighed, it had been long time long since she had any contact with her tribe. Would they ever allow her back? Had enough time passed?

Fox weaved her way towards to run down timber porch of the 'The Fowl Dog' one of the towns more low-end establishments renowned for buying and selling all sorts of unsavoury goods. Attention fixated on the gliding crow Fox came to an abrupt halt when she failed to step out of the way bumping into the arm of a much taller and older man whose eyes were unusually blue and his duster coat looking like it had seen better days.