Blood on the Mountain Trail
Ahead moved the man, guiding three others near the outer limit of the settlement.
Behind them, voices dropped off, one by one, while rooftops stretched wider into open ground. That last dwelling at the edge? Nothing like the rest - set apart by design, out of place on purpose.
Stone formed its walls instead of timber. The weight held firm where grain might twist.
Heavy stone cubes set one on top of another, just so. Windows held by iron skeletons. Beyond them, a smooth wood entrance patched with steel strips across its face. Tile covered the roof, unlike older homes with straw tops.
A single house stood out, its scale dwarfing every nearby structure by a factor of three.
A faint tightness touched Clara's purple eyes when she saw it. She held still, just watching.
A glance was all it took. She knew exactly where things were headed.
This is exactly who leads the village.
Fred didn't even slow his step. Victor just looked past it.
