Chapter 14
While the family slept, Bradamante crept from the house into the dark street. The moon cast a leaden haze over the town. She moved stealthily along the line of mismatched houses. Some looked sturdy, with solid oak frames, clay walls, and freshly-thatched roofs. Others—shacks with leaning walls and sagging roofs—seemed to have been erected hastily in whatever crevices their owners could find between the other houses. Everywhere in the street were droppings, both animal and human. The town smelled of garbage and excrement and smoke from the grimy fires. Other smells were unfamiliar. Bradamante didn’t intend to live in Gibeah long enough to discover what those smells were.
She saw no one along the way. The houses were all dark, their doors shut against the night. Bradamante hurri
