Winger looked up from replacing the torn stitches in his arm. “What?”
His eyes followed the line of her extended finger through the trees and laughed. “No, not birthday cake. The turrets of Killian. Nearly forgotten relics. They protected this land from the invaders of the north. Little good they did. Evil always finds a way in.”
“Can we go check them out? Please?”
Winger wrapped his injured arm with a new scrap of cloth from his bag.
He nodded. “It’s getting late, and that’s as good a place to rest as any.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction.
Winger has been wanting to come back for awhile now. I figured it was time to give in to his demands. I’m anxious to see where the journey takes this pair.
To catch up with Winger’s journey so far check out Chapter 1.