"Oh come, now, General,” Panton said, stiffly. “Save your anger for the Spanish. You have nothing to fear from me. I’m suffering just as much and you by the blockade.” Promise of Shaconage, Act 159: Timpoochee shuddered...
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Panton turned to Timpoochee standing quietly in the corner, observing the wolf and dog. “Come, Sam Story, my friend,” he said. “Let’s get you and your men situated and settled. My, my, you’ve certainly managed to pay us a visit in a most unusual way.” Panton motioned to follow him out the door. Bowing slightly to the governor and general as he departed, Timpoochee followed Panton silently.
He collected his men and continued following Panton out of the fort, onto the dark path which led down the hill to the village. “Well, my friend,” Panton said as the troupe walked down the hill. “Since you are going to be here for a while you might as well take advantage of some of the few pleasures this small community can afford.” The last rays of the sun were illuminating the western sky. Streaks of dark red pierced the high clouds like spears of blood.
A stern sign, Timpoochee thought. No good can come of this war. Evil is in the air.
Just before he looked away a flock of huge, black raven flew in haste across the blood-splotched clouds.
The raven eats only what it can take from others. No good can come of this.