Ghost clomped up the hill, breathing somewhat heavily, Damn hills, He thought, Why do you hills have to be so tall. Damnit. As he crested the hill he smelled something familiar, at first he could not believe his nose, then he saw it, the small cooking fire. His nose had not lied, the smell was true, the smell of Bacon. Reenergized by this glorious smell, Ghost clomped down the hill at record clomping speed his armor clinking heavily with his brisk walk. He stopped in front of the small fire, after a moment passed a single tear shed from his eye, mingling with the sweat on his face.
"I was decieved." was all he said.
"I was decieved." was all he said.
I seem to have lost my pie cutter.
