Chapter 5
As they walked down the hill towards the rushing, bubbling stream, Eve tried to come to terms with the myriad contradictions that was Tezla.
There was something incredibly…odd…about the woman. Even covered in mud and dressed in rags, she had an air of natural authority, of command, that belied her tiny size and made Eve think there was no possible way she could be some peasant girl who had wandered into the bunker and been the victim of an untimely collapse. And Eve might not be a linguist, but her lovely, lilting accent seemed to hold more in common with Polynesia than Italy or the Balkans. Even her name was strange. Eve would have sworn that she named her clan, when she first spoke. Oh, sure. When she and her many cousins on her mother’s side got together, they made jokes abo
