The Sentinels Somewhere only we know

everything rebuilds in time. brisbane muses in agreement. it's the one reassuring thing about life: that it will rebuild itself, time after time, regardless of how damaged it was left. green would sprout from the ashes left here, eventually. it might be in their lifetime and it may not — it depended on the resilience of what was left, he supposes. not really. brisbane follows his internal compass, letting it lead him where it may. i'm a stranger to these lands, i'm afraid, he admits with a cheeky grin. i don't know what's what, yet. i figure i'll learn as i go, though ...i am keepin' an eye open and an ear to the ground for a fella called witchdoctor. looks just like me but older n' minus these ugly bastards. he swings his head so his left side is facing her so she can see the raised, jagged and uneven pink flesh of wounds long healed that marrs his muzzle and lips; despite his term of the word 'bastards' he doesn't speak of them with anything that suggests he's remotely ashamed of them ( because he's not ).