The roads are lain upon a grassy hill just outside of Oatbarton, and the breeze plays with the trees to the left and right, causing all traces of whats passed to fall from their slender, jagged branches, and preserves the deep forest color of the canopy roofs and walls. It isn't too long up the road, the so far had-been peaceful road, that the next trial awaits Stitches. As the hill dipped down and the little hamlet of Oatbarton was left far behind and out of sight, the road straightened and leveled out, and three broad fellows would wait at the very bottom dip.
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unlucky
