Under the sun's scorching gaze, Ezra reached the wall, close enough to make out bold ink writings.
Certainly not a language he knew beforehand, Ezra understood its meaning like he did.
Town of Strow it said, or better yet, Strow Town.
Five steps to the side was the gate.
Evident with the two Caucasian males posted on both sides, one with a spear, the other with fisted knuckles, both in long brown baggy breeches and sleeveless shirts that had them bare-chested.
"Ah, yes. Remonon is-
The conversation died the moment he came into view as the guards stood apart, avoiding him like a plague.
And while his eyes were fixed on the door, Ezra could feel their gaze burrowing into his back.
Pushing the gate open was a hearty task for the boy, but he dared not ask for help.
A gruelling two minutes later, the door moved enough for him to slip through, and the boy went through in haste.
