After a hard day's work the evening found Fiontann laying his hammock and contemplating, in his right hand he had his pipe, a thick cloud of smoke was around him and on the ground a big jar of ale. Every now and then he'd reach for the jar to take a sip before laying back again to smoke, it was a clear sky, but slightly cold, autumn is close and it starts to show. Fion laid there enjoying the quiet and his drink, looking at the stars and hearing the neekerbreekers' noises from the other side of Chetwood. A good night, pleasant.
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stabbing
