Word count: exactly 100
Characters: Cutler Beckett
Notes: For the "Fire" challenge on potc100
They were nearing Scotland when the young boy saw the burning moors. The smoke wafted across the road in great clouds, permeating the air and leaving its unmistakable scent on everything.
When they stopped, he got out and approached the burnings. On one side was the old, matted vegetation; then the bright line of the fire, and on the other was the blackened turf.
“Why?” he asked the steward.
“Heather’s no use, once it gets too old. We burn it off, and the plants grow anew. Good for the soil, and the regrowth brings in game.”
“It’s just good management.”