Trusting the Enemy
The camp is exactly what it is. A camp.
At first, I didn't notice it was there. The stench of magic so quickly took over the air. It was like looking at a mirage until everything came into focus. There are tents everywhere, people doing chores, laughing, sitting around a campfire. By the time we arrived, the sun was already setting.
Alpha Bren would always tell us that the rebels are savages, nothing but blood-lust werewolves who have a hunger for war. Except the camp looks nothing like this. There are families here, elders. Everyone seems to have a job, a few people cooking, others setting up fallen tents. It seems innocent and kind.
Walking through the camp, people would stare at me. Some were sizing me up and others smiled like they wanted me to stay. I got a few
