The act of taking a human life made him a murderer, although he suspected that someone would have died regardless. That rogue like that was better off as a feast for the crows, while Marc was nearer to the beginning of his story. At least my mother never lived long enough to find out what I’ve done…
With a pistol at hand, he ventured into the woods. At first he doubted his senses, who would not with no further sounds to confirm his hunch. Up ahead there was a clearing, and what he heard originated from there.
As he approached, he made out the silhouette of a horse tied up to a tree. I can’t be…
“Enfers?”
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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