AzrielOld Maren laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She set down her wooden spoon and wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes on me."When you've lived as long as I have, young man, you just know." She tapped two fingers against her temple. "There's a feeling in your bones when danger walks in. A kind of coldness. These people—" she gestured vaguely toward the huts, "—they don't have it. I've been wrong before, but never about someone who meant us harm. The heart has a way of showing itself, if you know where to look."I studied her face, searching for any hint that she was joking. She seemed sincere, but I'd met plenty of sincere people who'd led others to their deaths."Besides," Kofi added, leaning against his wooden stick with an easy shrug, "those terrorists never venture this far. And they never travel alone—always in packs, always armed to the teeth. We especially watch for groups of people and avoid them." He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "A man and a woman, ex
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