Chapter Seven
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LitterMerryweather took flight and sealed his guilt.
If ever there'd been doubts as to his true capabilities, his heritage, that whoosh of fleeing dandy dispelled them. Like a flaming arrow shot by God, he burned up the landscape. I pursued.
Merryweather's unruly mop of blond hair made for an easy target against the dirt-ridden velvets of his apparel. Dark shadows cast by the toppling mountains combined with volcanic changes to the landscape to mark his exodus as the one flash of gold in purgatory. He was like a phoenix, and true to the legends, Merryweather was reborn. He bolted across the shattering terrain with a total disregard for his own safety, laughing, always laughing. Well he might, too, for although he was fast, very fast, he was not fast enough and it woul
