“I still think there should be a faster way to do all that.” Yakir said, still irritated with the mark that he should be able to see on his palm but couldn’t. He scowled at the palm of his hand as he had done several times in the few hours since it was placed on him. They were approaching the border of Ankesh headed to its capitol Stralo in a car with orange and black flags waving on the hood. They had spent hours at the wall and they had been driving for hours to get to Stralo. It had been a long day and it barely had even started yet. Things were moving so much slower than Yakir was used to and it was making him restless.
It started with a visit to “The Wall” which was a giant, thick, metal door that doubled as a building to house all the military personnel who manned the wall
