Green Fox Epilogue

A winding column of priests, soldiers, and reluctant villagers picked their way through the barren boulder field. At their head was a bent-backed priest with a freshly daubed red handprint staining the front of his grey robes. Despite his hobbling gait, he set a brisk pace that the others struggled to match. At the rear, a large group of men and women carried heavy supplies and pickaxes, unhappy about being marched so far from their homes. Patient donkeys trudged across the uneven ground bearing bulging sacks without complaint.

The lead priest came to a halt, and the column shuffled to a stop behind him. All eyes turned upwards, gazing at the imposing cliff and the steps that climbed back and forth before reaching the curving golden wall of the dwarven outpost.

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