When they had reached the newcomers’ encampment, the one downriver from the farmers, a number of Jones’ charges decided to join them, the rest choosing to proceed further downriver.
Over the years, Jones had heard of Jeffery Carter. How, during the first migration of the two hundred, five years prior, he had chosen to walk off and leave his charges to their own devices.
Now, sitting atop his mount at the top of the ridge, seeing the next plateau some three hundred feet below, he felt much the same as he imagined Carter felt. I’m getting closer to doing the same as Carter. For two cents, I’d leave these idiots and explore. Carter left, I think, to explore… and escape. Escape the bullshit that comes from all the politics. I wonder what happened to Carter. No one has seen hide-nor-hair of h
