Ford glared after the girl who had gone into the house.
He hated her.
She was obviously naive, and very pretty, and talked about being raised in kindness. She probably ate every meal without fail. He doubted she'd ever had a worry in her life. With her large, unusually blue eyes, she probably got everything she wanted from anyone she batted them at.
His scowl deepened with the bitterness in his soul.
He lifted his broken leg gingerly and laid it on the table she'd pulled over. It was less swollen after a night's sleep, but it hurt terribly.
Probably from hobbling along on it for weeks.
"Hello, there." A man said from the door. Ford flinched. Would the man send him away? Eggs and fresh milk had stirred a hunger in him that was far deeper than the last crust of stale bread in his bag could satisfy.
