I’d missed the Earl’s army by more than a week, and a refugee camp had sprouted in its wake, stretching along the east bank of the Roin like fungu... on a fallen log. You could smell it before you could see it. Fan-fucking-tastic. The road was clear, though, at least, all the way to the foot of the bridge where thugs in the Earl’s colors huddled behind a makeshift barricade. The refugees kept their distance. They’d seen too much violence-some of it quite recently, judging from the occasional. It was about 11am when chaos hit the site. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my girlfriend's green Prius drive by the paver. I didn't really think anything of it at the time but Sylvia passed by the paver and parked a little further down the road and got out of her car. She had made a lunch for me and was bringing it to me. That was very nice of her but the thing that caused the chaos was how she was dressed. I had my back to the direction from which Sylvia was coming and I was talking to the. More

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