Chapter Thirty
Connor's cabin was across passageway from Selen's. The same size, the same layout, but it was so much more simple: his foldout bunk and desk; his closet of basic clothes; his duffel bag. Trophies and memories of lost comrades…those would fill a room twice the size of his.
Although he did have a different sort of small trophy box of his own in his closet.
Everything had a simple smell, too. The smell of his body, the soap he used, the barely noticeable cologne that had hints of springtime.
And rivers.
His life was stripped down and uncomplicated. It had been since surviving the s*******r of the Nyango Revolt.
Connor paced, his sneakers softly scuffing the floor.
Despite the narrow gap separating his cabin from Selen's, he usually felt comfortable in his quarters. If an
