Eight
paces west of the palm tree, twenty paces towards the tallest
mountain on the island. In the shade of the trees, Carrie marked the
spot, took her shovel and got to work. The bandana she hung on a
nearby tree bore the insignia of the Bovista pirates, terrors of the
Armillaria Sea. She wasn’t going to need it anymore. She’d burned
all of her bridges to get here. Not that it mattered; by the end of
the day she was going to be filthy rich.
The
sun was setting by the time Carrie’s shovel