The refugee district was chaotic, with trash discarded everywhere, puddles of sewage forming one after another, and a faint stench of decay wafting through the air.
It was only near where people lived that conditions got somewhat better.
But just somewhat.
The arranged houses formed a semicircle, with fewer and fewer the farther out you went, all standing without any order.
These houses were either built haphazardly with thatch or made with picked-up discarded plastic tarps. The slightly better ones were built with stones and bricks.
Hannah's house was close to the center.
From a distance, it looked like an ordinary stone house.
When the sound of footsteps was heard, someone stuck their head out to look.
The first thing they saw was Archer, his large backpack conspicuous.
Without seeing the face, the height and build made it clear it was a child.
A child here was like food that was constantly being watched by predators.
