Since they were certain that the villagers would suspect an angelic and innocent girl less than a pimply-faced thug with a crew cut and ragged ear, it was Erma who ventured into the main street.
Difficult to go unnoticed in such a small town. Everyone knew each other, for sure, and every inhabitant had to be informed of the presence of a visitor, whether unwelcome or not, in a few hours. A paradise for gossip.
The strategy put forward by Roland was flawed, but it was the only one that had a chance of being successful, however small.
Erma adjusted herself. She smoothed the wrinkled folds of her skirt. She had wiped her face with the little water they had left, but her face was too marked for her to not look wretched. Besides, her skirt and blouse were holed in several places, as if attac
