For a moment, silence reigned. The refugees exchanged glances, fear and uncertainty written on their faces. Lucius studied them, his expression unreadable. Will they follow, or do we have to finish this task alone? The thought flickered through his mind, the thought scaring him, as he had no confidence in completing the mission with 20 men ,worse once he fell he would certainly be tortured for any information he may have, as he was a spy.
Suddendlly though it seemed that fate took pity on them as from among the crowd someone stepped forward, a boy no older than fourteen. He moved hesitantly at first but grew more confident with each step. His thin fingers wrapped around one of the daggers, and he straightened, his gaze meeting Lucius's.
Following his inquisitive gaze he muttered"I only had my father," the boy said, his voice trembling but defiant. "He died defending this city. But I'm going to starve whether it stands or falls. I'm done waiting to die."
