Chapter Seventeen
At the end of the road, we came to the farmhouse.
Judging from the outside, the house was habitable and in use at least some of the time. The windows were intact, a section of the roof looked new, and an open carport to the side contained a vehicle.
We didn’t go inside.
A bus sat on the packed dirt outside the front door.
We boarded the bus, a set of dusty and tired looking people, with dusty packs and not much to say.
Clay went into the house and returned a bit later wearing a local hat and jacket.
Marisol also clambered into the bus and sat on the seat behind her brother, turning around to watch us.
Neither she nor her brother looked particularly Coldi. Had they ever been to Asto? I guessed not.
We drove over a rough dirt road that zig-zagged up the mountainsid
