The fire crackled softly in the middle of the woods, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Zalor, now known as "Dumpster" to those who hunted him, sat hunched over the flames, absently stirring a pot of stew with a weathered spoon.
The sound of rustling leaves broke the silence, and Zalor froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the dual knives at his sides. For a moment, he thought it might be the authorities—or worse, bounty hunters—but then he heard the unm...
