((Follow On of Events from "Finally: the woman, parchment and a messenger come together" > http://laurelinarchives.org/node/13281 <))
Seraile whipped round when he heard steps behind him, only to find a very weather beaten man, walking up to him, warily.
Seraile himself was ragged, worn, his clothes partly tattered; he had been away again, in search for what always evaded him, death, the release from the pain of the world; the slaughter of the North Downs had driven him to madness.
