Icor, his face blackened by soot, except for a pus-oozing red scar zigzagging from eye to chin, stared at Urazi from across the smoking fire.“I did not.” Urazi picked a stringy strand of meat from his teeth with his dagger. He had found a sizable fowl scratching along the road and had wrung its neck, intending to eat it when he stopped for the night. Just as dusk had darkened the sky, he’d happened upon two males hunkered around a fire, sheltered from the worst of the bitter wind by a lean-to of metal scraps and half-rotted boards. A TERRAN BAZAAR sign that once had symbolized a thriving economy and a promising future served as roof paneling for the makeshift dwelling.Urazi had offered to share his meal in exchange for a night’s haven.“What brings you to these parts?” Suspicion narrowed Icor’s eyes. Distrust had replaced hunger, now that the latter had been appeased.The feeling was mutual. “What makes you think I am not from here?” Urazi parried.“An inflection in your speech indicates you originate from another province.”
