Pressed-Dirt
“So, my men tell me the bandit that attacked you last night escaped? And you heard nothing after? No screams in the forest?” Sullivan folded his hands under his chin, glancing at Anya.
“No, father, I focused on the wounded soldier. However, ‘escape’ is not accurate. He retreated from Jay’s grotesque skeleton creatures.” Anya took a bite of her muffin as she looked out the window by Sullivan’s side, sighing and shaking her head after remembering Jay naming one of his creatures ‘Muffin’. She found it harder to swallow today.
Seems like we may have found the source of these attacks. Perhaps I’ll need to question Jay. He thought, before deciding to send Anya instead.
“Anya, head to Jay’s place. He lives above the butchery… Tell him to withdraw his skeletons from the forest or there will be consequences.”