She still had that coiled look, her body tensed to spring. Years on the run had left marks everywhere on her. “You don’t look so different,” Patrick lied. “Wetter, perhaps. Should’ve cut your hair. Ain’t it the thing to do in hidin’?”
The flares went out. Her expression flattened, exactly as it had when she was twelve and she’d thought him an imbecile.
Her eyes flitted to the west.
“You won’t have much luck out that way,” he told her. “These hills aren’t safe. Trigger mines everywhere. You ever seen a mine blow a person apart?” He hollowed his cheeks to mimic detonation. “Not a pleasin’ sight.”
The shattered stare Nina gave him indicated she’d seen quite a few mines. Only war gave a person that look. “You buried mines around your own town?” She sounded disgusted.
“It’s wartime, darlin
