March 1st, 2034
Ever since yesterday’s grisly find, a pale has fallen over the camp. You can see it in everyone’s eyes and I’m getting the feeling they’re all falling upon me. I’ve never really felt at home at the Wolfe’s camp, welcome, yes, but there are those around here who equate my presence with Threak raids. I can’t say as I blame them, where I go, the Threak seem to follow, – and now this.
So, adhering to a time old axiom, – the one about guests and fish wearing out their welcome after three days, I’m packing it up this evening and hitting the trail. I’m going to make a stop at Ross’ camp along the way and see if I can’t get help get the ball rolling for a springtime strike on the air base.
amazon.com/a-year-underfoot
A Mind is a Terrible Thing 