DragonSmuggler
One Time Luck
The twenty one year old breathed heavily as he carried an armful of freshly cut firewood, dumping the pile onto the ground beside the pit. He threw his rump down into a makeshift chair, rubbing his head with a fairly dirty looking cloth. From his chair he began to lazily fill the pit with wood, humming quietly to himself as he stretched his arms and threw the wood onto the still fairly warm embers that had kindled brightly only moments ago. After he put the last chunk of wood in the pit he leaned back, staring up at the dimming sky. He took the green jacket from around his waist and draped it over his sholders, shaking slightly. He'd lost count of how many days, months, even years, he's been alone. He grimmanced and scratched the bit of scruff on his chin, then ran his fingers through his black, wavey hair. He looked back at the fire pit, sighing quietly to himself. He would just have to keep waiting. He was always waiting.
