"You're the one who came up with this strategy," Vol said. "You ought to be the one deciding when to go, no?"
"I would say right now – but I'd prefer to know what your instincts are telling you," Nolan said. "Anything on that front? I've planned all I really can. I'm confident enough that we can be in and out within half a day, and with this fog, no one will really be the wiser. They'll find a ghost village. That seems perfect to me, but perfect isn't good enough when dealing with Oliver Patrick. So, I ask again, what does your gut tell you?"
Vol didn't want to listen to his gut. Not when it was thumping a thousand different songs of fear. That wasn't useful to him. It made sense to be fearful in all of the Stormfront, but what about this attack in particular? Was it worth fearing that? In that regard, he felt nothing. No sign that it was a trap. No delight at the prospect that it was unprotected. Nothing.
"It doesn't seem to be a trap, at least," Vol said.
