The peons worked over one of the thick and gnarly trees that grew on the Valley. Their hatchets went up and down, cutting the thick branches and thorns that sprouted from the too-thick-to-encircle trunks.
Brawny was putting the wood on the trunk of the wagon, when he saw something under some rocks. Pointing at it, he exclaimed: “
Hey, lookit that!”
Under the rocks, covered by their shadow, lied Dashambe. Utterly still, he was clutching something in his hands. The peons came closer.
Scrawny said: “
Looks like a rook from the Den”. He touched the troll's neck,and, looking at Brawny, he announced: “
Think he's dead”.
Brawny put his hand under Dashambe's nose and, feeling the faintest breath, he replied: “
He isn't dead. He's a farseer apprentice. Get him on the wagon”.