*

ke to Sarabelle, who was predictably consumed with wrath in a manner that only women exp

and asking everyone under the sun about Mathew Ross, gave him an insight into people's behavior. There was a way to talk to them, to engage them with resolve and determination, but without being pushy or ar

rens—but the lack of contact from his brother worried him beyond belief. At the end of the second month, he was practically panic stricken. It was during one night, a rainy night, when the furious drops of water ceaselessly

uld I drop everything, and make my way to Po

ou probably won't be able to come back for a while. You'll have to work there, at the docks or something, just to

manager's name was actually Jon Furd, but he was a turd

o think that Largo's dead, or that he left me

wearing what looked like a shredded riding cloak with the cowl pulled up. The cloak's exterior was a dark, drab gray, but the interior looked to be a faded red, and beneath the cloak, the man wore studded, leather armor. The large axe hanging from his hi

off him, and when the man removed his cowl to order a beer, Larson saw he was old, at least sixty. He had thick, gray hair that ran loose

or something, " the old man asked

rson mumbled and turned b

said with a tinge of annoyance. "You got t

hree swallows, let quite a bit drain off his mustache and beard then pointed to fi

Barry howled. "Yo

get it. That's how it

nd said, "He just gave

on Larson. The old man's mouth was a

t's how it gets bitten off, kid, " Holden scolded

cena

ething l

nished it as quickly and perhaps less thoroughly than

choked as he finished off the third gla