CHAPTER 7
Zach stood in the middle of a large green pasture, still trying to understand what the f**k had just happened. One second he was standing in the middle of a forest, agreeing to come to Lake’s homeland, and the next he was standing in the middle of a large, plush, green pasture, with no gun in hand. “What the f**k?”
“Welcome to Wetiko. Weapons aren’t acceptable in our realm, and therefore will not transport here.” Opening his arm wide, Lake indicated the lands around them. “These are the open pastures of my people,” he said, then pointed to the left. “The west side is the land of my tribe.
Come on, and let me show you around.”
Zach could hear the pride in Lake’s voice as he spoke of his tribe. He looked around to see a pine tree here and there, and then off quite a bit far
