the smuggler’s bible

Bohumir

The trouble with troll country is—perhaps obviously—all of the trolls. Bohumir is careful and travels only by day but it’s incredible what those man-eating degenerates can accomplish with a naturally shaded vale and thick forest canopy. There are places here the sunlight ain’t even heard of.

“So what now? Are you going to grind my bones?” Bohumir asks after they chop the legs off his horse and crowd close around him in the gloom and ankle-deep detritus.

“Oh my god,” one of the trolls says thoughtfully. “Grind them? No, you poor bastard, we only take them bones whole.”