Justin jumped backward, lost his footing, and hit the ground. Olorus and Hook stood and drew their weapons.
"I don't think he will be giving us any trouble," said the old man, standing over the dull, brown bones.
Justin's eyes locked on a lop-sided skull. It was a whole human skeleton. Tattered clothes hung from the body. Hardened cartilage and withered connecting tissues still held most of the bones together, but half of the fingers holding the pack were lying on the floor. Beside it lay a large, sheathed sword.
"This fellow has been here for some time," Zechariah said.
"Probably the last soul foolish enough to take this path," mumbled Olorus.
"I don't see any injuries," said Zechariah, "but something must have gone wrong. That's what you get for traveling alone."
"What makes you think he was alone?" Justin asked.
"Because no one took his sword or satchel," said Zechariah.