#Chapter100
The sun was just whispering goodbye to the world, leaving behind a fading glow as darkness rushed to bid it fare-thee-well, when the site came into view.
Blackened and charred, the hardened ground still smoked, ghostly coils floating up into the chilly autumn air. The surrounding trees, mostly bare, had been singed, branches withered, and the air clung to the scent of death.
Good instincts were not needed to know some dark shit had gone down, only a set of working eyes and a shred of common sense. Fox corpses lined the floor in a row of three, skinned, and, if the scorched pot that sat skewwhiff on top of the makeshift, stone campfire was anything to go by, they had been drained of blood, too.
It would have been nice if that was where the series of fucked-upness ended, but that would have been all too easy.