Attempts At Reclamation
The wind swept canyons and alleys of stone shuttled tumble weeds into the depression. All of it ended its journey piled against the walls of Fort Brask. Where it would occasionally be collected for use in repairs. For as tough as the wind was on the rocks that made up the canyon it was outright harsh on the construction of the fort.
“I don’t know why we don’t leave this here,” said Sneed as he filled his seventh wheelbarrow with sand. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to just let this pile up and protect us. Then we wouldn’t need to be rebuilding the fort all the time.”
“Ain’t what regulations say,” replied Twix.
“Regulations are for building defenses. We got nothing to defend against but this wind.”
“Regulations is regulations.”
“What do you think they saw in this place?” asked Sneed, his shovel driving for more sand at the base of the wall.
“Command ain’t seen anything,” said Twix as he walked on by his barrow loaded with sand.
“Don’t go on with this Magi shit again!” Sneed called after him.
“Ain’t shit,” said a voice from atop the wall. Sneed looked up to find the Lieutenant squatting over him, right hand resting on his saber and his left holding out a canteen for Sneed.
“You know something Lieutenant?”
“If I wanted rumors I’d listen to Twix.”
“Maybe you should.”
Today’s art is courtesy of Tomas Muir from Evora, Portugal.