In a grim future, the Loggin Folk have always scraped by. Now hunted by a terrible foe, they flee into the mountains that they know better than anyone else. They have no modern weapons, no transport, little food. They’re down to eating tree bark for most meals but still managing to move the tribe. No worries, the Loggin Folk have never been totally out of food. They have their PickaNick basket. There’s food in it.
This little offering is intended to be part of the opening chapter in the forth volume of the Bill Axon tales. I am posting now because I have been reposting a revised and corrected version of 'Per Ardua Ad Astra'. I would ask that you please read the new version and review it, either through the Finestories review system or send to me in via a feedback comment. Thank you.