The dirt path opened into a clearing where the village came into view before Charles and Nora.
The houses, all wooden, had slanted roofs and small windows that reflected the light of the descending sun.
Electric poles stood at regular intervals, their wires swaying gently in the breeze.
The air smelled of fresh wood and something sweet—maybe freshly baked bread.
But what caught Charles's attention most were the women.
There were many, walking along the dirt streets, almost all holding small children in their arms or by the hand.
Some babies were crying, others laughing, their voices filling the air with a constant buzz.
The few men Charles saw stood still as statues, dressed in black tunics that made them look like guards or police.
Their faces were stern, their eyes scanning the village intently.
Charles noticed they wore belts with daggers and small devices he couldn't identify.
One of them, a tall man with short brown hair, spotted them approaching.
