The thick forest near Curt. Curt.
"What do you take me for?"
A man who seemed to be in death of his forties chanted, his eyes keen on the fellow before him. His face long and his jaws stalked by dirty beards. Lots of the folks surrounding him were very much unkempt.
"Not again, John."
A lady close to John, the fellow who had spoken said. There was persuasion in her tone. John shot her a slight gaze and looked away from her. He continued,
"If not for me, do you think y'all will still be alive?"
The lady gave up on him. She seemed to have her own principles too and since John wouldn't act by that, twas better to let him be.
"What do you know?"
The fellow who John had been tossing the complain at turned at once. He stopped walking as well as John.
"Now you've deem yourself as our savior, eh? You think our lives are owed to some careless draw."