“We can’t leave witnesses,” he said.
“No,” Alioune said, turning away from him, fixing on the survivor who had crawled furthest away, half-way into one of the openings at the rear of the chamber.
The slightest of smiles made a shadow on her lips.
Kueur released his hands, licked her teeth.
“Desert,” she said.
They were children, Max thought.
Predatory children, one dimensional, their needs almost simple.
He was glad he’d found them, such simple leaves fallen from some great tree of shadows.
The world was harsh, and the traps that prey set out to catch and kill the likes of them were sometimes subtle and always deadly.
He had a lot to teach them about the ways of men and their civilization.
Far more than the nuns and teachers at the boarding schools he sent them to.
And maybe someday, they’d be good company on whatever road they took to find the
blood and pain on which they’d feed.