For the majority of the time, he was just a farmer, growing
various herbs and spices to trade for meat, beer, and various odds and ends.
But he kept a close eye on the moon’s phases.
Because every full moon, he had his ritual.
The afternoon before the full moon, he would quietly pack up
some supplies as well as his tiny pot of silver, and then walk into the forest.
There was a cave a mile or so inside the forest that was hidden.
Best place for an illegal still.
Easier to walk home drunk when it’s light out.
No comments:
Post a Comment