Having successfully eluded death not just once but twice in one
day, Scott continues his witless wandering with a newfound whistle in his
step. On top of that, he’s finally confronted the personal demons that had
haunted him for so long. Oh sure, there’s still a long way to go before the
wounds festering in his soul are completely mended. But he hasn’t felt this
good in years! The mists begin to part, revealing a blameless blue sky. The sun smiles on the heathery hills from it’s proud mid-day zenith and all seems right with the world once again. Scott holds the leather bound scrapbook closer to his chest and pushes onward, unsure of where exactly his feet are taking him. He comes to the crest of a particularly large hill and takes in the wide, panoramic scene that meets his eyes. Far below, nestled in the very bottom of an expansive valley, is a stereotypical Scottish village with a church tower dominating the ‘skyline’. Sheep pasture along the hills surrounding the picturesque hamlet, and just beyond the village he can catch the faintest glimpse of the foggy sea - the bleak grayness of it standing in stark contrast to the bright green of the moors.Scott draws in a long, invigorating lungful of the clean air, then descends the hill - making for the village. Once there, he finds the local Pub. He orders an ale and glances about the dark interior of the place. The first thing he notices is:
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12/26/2007 7:51:45 AM
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