That also spared some mourning.
What has passed, has passed.
At nightfall, Flossie Wright was wandering slowly down the street, holding skewered meat bought from a roadside stall, contemplating her place for the night and whether to buy some gear for a trip into the mountains tomorrow.
The skewered meat was unfinished, but her thoughts had taken form.
Yet, a group of people suddenly appearing in her field of vision drew her attention.
As it was nearing dusk, the visibility was still quite clear.
The group consisted of seven people, each carrying backpacks, dressed as tourists, mostly in short sleeves given the hot weather.
Almost at a glance, Flossie saw the sickening flower of the other shore.
Tattoos on shoulders, wrists, feet...
Various styles.
But they directly proved their identity.
Bailey Maynard.
The very Mercenary Corps led by Gavin.
Flossie paused slightly.
Then, she frowned.
Why were Gavin's men here?
