35
PENN
The men are nine now – eight and one. They snap branches for stakes and turn their packs into tents, all but Cody.
They gather brush for a bonfire and set it ablaze.
They lie back, dipping their boots into the river, sing and share stories and gaze up at the sky.
Soon, the Emerging will start.
Penn cloaks himself with the red, wincing hour – now the afternoon is late, and the sun is nodding off. He watches the Champions make camp. He knows which one he'll recruit first for the Under Realm.
The white-whiskered Champion has patched his ear with a strip of lambskin. Penn’s been watching him for days, and he has high hopes for a new Xerxes – though they are somewhat deflated when he recalls the previous night. Whiskers did not hold well against the Night Beast.
Penn shrugs
