are you telling this story or am I?
"I don't get swindled," Fiadh tells Remi with the confidence of every teenager that has ever graced the world with their footsteps. Fiadh is untouchable - by the world, by the war, and especially by other con artists. As for why he's here? She hops over a few dead plants that look as though they've been trying to sprout in vain and grins up at him. "Nah, you're the muscle. Obviously." She rolls her eyes.
"I ain't ever had to come this far out for supplies. Who knows what might be out here in the desert? Could be cannibals, or dragons, or witches." Turning to walk backwards, her hazel eyes not the same colour as her father's but containing no less mischief for it, she tilts her head at his suggestion.
"I was kinda hopin' it would be bigger than that," she admits, though a pool would be pretty fun. It doesn't take long before they're among the jumble of canvas tents and caravans and other once vibrant structures faded by the sun, Fiadh heading straight for their pickup spot like an arrow.
"I ain't ever had to come this far out for supplies. Who knows what might be out here in the desert? Could be cannibals, or dragons, or witches." Turning to walk backwards, her hazel eyes not the same colour as her father's but containing no less mischief for it, she tilts her head at his suggestion.
"I was kinda hopin' it would be bigger than that," she admits, though a pool would be pretty fun. It doesn't take long before they're among the jumble of canvas tents and caravans and other once vibrant structures faded by the sun, Fiadh heading straight for their pickup spot like an arrow.
Fiadh
