The refugee district was chaotic, with trash discarded everywhere, puddles of sewage forming one after another, and a faint stench of decay wafting through the air.
It was only near where people lived that conditions got sowhat better.
But just sowhat.
The arranged houses ford a semicircle, with fewer and fewer the farther out you went, all standing without any order.
These houses were either built haphazardly with thatch or made with picked-up discarded plastic tarps. The slightly better ones were built with stones and bricks.
Hannah’s house was close to the center.
From a distance, it looked like an ordinary stone house.
When the sound of footsteps was heard, soone stuck their head out to look.
The first thing they saw was Archer, his large backpack conspicuous.
Without seeing the face, the height and build made it clear it was a child.
A child here was like food that was constantly being watched by predators.
Of course, the little witch next door living in the stone house was an exception.
Many were in a hurry to stock up on food for the winter, and not everyone was brave enough to hunt in the north alone like Hannah, so when they saw Archer alone, their eyes shone bright.
"Grab this kid, and have a good al?"
"I say, go straight for it, use a stick first then a knife."
"But this is right at that little witch’s doorstep. What if she cos back..."
"Then we move fast!"
"Alright!"
Several n made up their minds, led by one whose face was as black as charcoal, all with their tools ready.
Thick wooden sticks, broken steel pipes, and bricks.
If it had been before, they would have just used their hands against a child, but since they had co to know the little witch, they had developed a physiological fear of children.
"One! Two! Three!"
Soone signaled with their hands.
The leader hadn’t even finished counting when he charged out with a steel pipe in hand.
At that mont, Hannah, who had been out picking flowers, also ca back.
She was happy, hopping along as she called out, "Archer, look what I found!"
Her soft and innocent voice hamred on the n’s ears like a devilish tune.
The man’s hands went limp, almost dropping his steel pipe.
"Hey?" Hannah ran over and noticed the dark-faced man, "Uncle, what are you doing here?"
The man twisted a smile on his face, "I... I..."
He stamred without a proper answer, turning his head to look for his accomplices, but they had already fled.
The man could only stiffly fabricate an excuse, "I was just thinking of getting so sun."
Archer was very alert, standing next to Hannah, instinctively protecting her behind him.
"But it’s nightti now."
Hannah looked up at the sky, then fixed her gaze on the man.
She pursed her lips, slightly displeased, "Uncle, lying is wrong."
The refugee district had no lights.
The moonlight was cold and white, shining on one half of the little girl’s face, reflecting perfectly in her round eyes with a hint of a smile.
Beautiful, yet chilling to the bone.
Sweat dripped relentlessly from the man’s forehead, but he could not utter a word.
His mind was haunted by the dreadful state of the scarred man and the others that night.
In a dark fairy tale, the little witch’s cloak was indeed dyed red with blood.
"I have to go, I’m leaving now," the man said, and turned to run.
The steel pipe fell to the ground, rolling and grinding against the pebbles, creating a sowhat grating noise.
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