Brynmohr
When first we meet Brynmohr…
Brynmohr cupped his hands around a passing firefly. He peeked between his thumbs. The firefly lifted its wings to flash a yellow beacon. It tickled his palm, so he let it fly away to resume seeking whatever it was fireflies sought.
He was exceedingly bored.
And as we leave him…
Brynmohr blew out the lantern. He listened until he no longer heard the thud of hooves. Then he listened a bit longer. If the man circled back, his hearing would pick up the ruse. Lamar made more noise than a wild boar rooting through the woods.
He glanced up at the surrounding trees. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed his band of imaginary archers. Only men gauge battle in numbers. That’s how we survive.
The wind whipped up and tugged back his hood. The splatter of raindrops echoed through the forest. Brynmohr leaned his head back and welcomed the cleansing rain on his face.
From the start, you sense he is someone he doesn’t want to be.
