Sky Mesa searching for sunset

why, hello.

the preacherman stepped out the shadows.

he'd tucked himself in an alcove, less than a cavern, drop in temperatures no mercy to a loner. underfed, manged, god-forgotten.

unless this young female here were a gift from above.

moonlight provided vision, so he was sure to keep his shoulder, whence the infection had spread, in the black. keep himself away, too. didn't want her thinking him too forthcoming, nor her to catch a whiff of his blight.

out 'n' about at the witchin' hour? his grin caught moon rays.