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Summary
His fair skin already had a tinge of gold from the past few days working in the sun. His strong, naked torso was littered with faint scars and a few strange tattoos. His sandy blond hair almost glowed in the sunlight. He stepped cautiously along, barefoot, and murmuring to himself. And he carried a bowl filled with sheep’s blood which he flicked over the neat rows with his fingers.
John shook his head, “He’s the strangest man.”
Abigail smirked, “Ye have to admit, the crops were better than ever last year. Maybe there is something to his strangeness.”