"What are you doing?" I ask, approaching Wolfe from behind.
He turns around, his golden eye roving over me from head to toe. He always does that, like a private inventory. I want to tell him that yes, all of my limbs, fingers, toes, ears and nose are still intact.
"We're strengthening this section of the wall so the rebuild in the sections that fell will be stronger, sturdier. We don't want this to happen again. The Primitives shouldn't have been able to overrun the city. Silas did a poor job of wall maintenance."
At the mention of my husband's name, I'm instantly annoyed. "Silas was a strong leader. You have no right to say otherwise."
Wolfe says nothing and I'm forced to stew on my anger alone. I hate that he's right. In some ways, Silas was a strong leader. He was patient and fair.
