"Creak—" A brown-skinned little girl burst out of the house where Norris Moore was taking shelter from the rain, hopping and skipping. Upon seeing Norris Moore and Trenton Smith, she let out a startled "Ah!" and looked at the two of them with surprised honey-colored eyes, then spoke in heavily accented Spanish and ran back into the room.
It seemed like she was calling someone's name.
Soon after, a stern-looking middle-aged Mexican woman walked out from the house.
The woman must have been cooking in the room just now, traces of flour still visible on her hands. Seeing Norris Moore and her companion, her eyebrows furrowed immediately.
Norris could tell by the woman's expression that she wanted them gone. After all, in such a place, the appearance of a critically wounded man and a blood-soaked woman was certainly an ill omen.
"Please let us stay a little longer, we'll leave once the rain stops," Norris Moore implored, shivering as she spoke in English.
