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Darkness falls as I continue to walk the perimeter. Occasionally I drag my foot across the soil, digging through the soft earth crust. It looks like sand - I guess that is to be expected on an island. I'm thinking tunnel.
A cold chill begins to blanket the isle. The shadows of the castle reach across the compound. The sun is behind the turrets and walls, but not yet down.
"They put the compound in the wrong spot." I think. A look around sees few lights. It feels colder, like death is hanging over.
Pioneer walks into the bunkhouse and flops down on his space. He curls up the Watchmans jacket tighter to fend off the cold.
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