Even though it was a sunny day, the sky over Davaz Town remained gray and a foul stench lingered in the air, emanating from the factory fumes and wastewater discharged into the Seine River.
The car couldn't avoid it either; as soon as the windshield wasn't wiped for a moment, it would instantly be covered with a thin layer of dust.
Shire looked through the car window at the rows of factory buildings on either side of the road. The once sunny hometown no longer existed, even the snow had turned gray-black.
However, during wartime, factories were almost a matter of life and death for the country; at such times, no one would care about these things.
The car slowly stopped in front of Dejoka's small house.
Across the street, a wounded soldier was undergoing rehabilitation training in the snow. He had lost a leg and was struggling forward on crutches with the help of his mother, leaving a line of footprints and small holes in the snowy ground.
