Friday Flash Fiction: The Road from Peña Dura

His dark hair, as shaggy and unkempt as his grizzled beard, formed a ring around his beak-like nose and deep set eyes.  His clothes, tattered and worn from traveling for endless miles on foot, smelled of sweat and dirt and the darkness of Peña Dura.  He caught rides on oxcarts, sharing afternoons with chickens and