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"I'm afraid she might explode," the Scavengers Leader pointed to the bizarre protruding patterns on the Infant Witch's skin.
"Where is her mother?"
The Scavenger Leader led Xu Yang outside and pointed to a woman leaning against two garbage bins, her mouth askew and her eyes skewed—a simpleton.
"And her father?"
"One of the dozen or so thugs nearby, I don't know," the Scavenger Leader shook his head.
The child's breath was very weak. She was obviously very ill, and not quite like the other infant witches—she could die at any moment.
Xu Yang swallowed, mentally preparing himself. The Scavenger Leader gestured, and the two women by the bed carefully lifted the fragile infant, no bigger than half an arm's length, into Xu Yang's hands.
He felt as if the child weighed a thousand pounds.
Xu Yang cautiously extended his hands. With innate reverence, he held the infant close and stepped out of the stench-filled room one step at a time.
