Chapter 772

Nina remained silent, deep in thought. The contrast was stark. The northern part of the Yaren tribe had been decimated by Pharaoh’s men, while this area received assistance. Her instincts told her something wasn’t right.
She glanced at the boy, and he followed her. Nina walked to the center of the yard, approaching the old woman and the little girl. She didn’t recognize the herbs on the ground, but their roots were long. “How do I do this?”
The boy, quick on the uptake, translated Nina’s question.
The old woman, upon hearing the voices, looked up at Nina and the boy. To her, they seemed like a young woman in her twenties and a teenage boy.
“Snap off the roots, shake off the soil, and bundle them into groups of twenty.”
The boy translated the old woman’s instructions.
The old woman then asked them, “How did you end up here?”
They were in the central region of the Yaren tribe. Though they were part of the same tribe, the country was in turmoil, and the Yaren were heavily divided. The presence of allied forces nearby had created a rift between the northern and central Yaren tribes. The boy’s accent marked him as a northerner.
As the boy hesitated, Nina gave him a nudge. “We fled here,” she said.
The Yaren people in this area believed Pharaoh to be a benevolent figure. Revealing the truth about the massacre and pursuit by Pharaoh’s men wouldn’t be wise without understanding the full situation first.
“You are Yaren. Your hearts are kind. We won’t trouble you too much. Stay here for now and don’t think about leaving,” the old woman advised while sorting herbs.
The boy didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Because there are different allied forces stationed around us. We survive only because of Pharaoh’s protection. If you leave this village, you’ll be hunted by these forces. Our area isn’t governed by the government,” the old woman explained.
The boy repeated the old woman’s words to Nina, making her hair stand on end. She couldn’t fathom living in such chaos and danger.
Just then, a chorus of children’s voices rang out, “Hello, Mr. Micah.”
The children spoke in broken English.
“Grandma, Mr. Micah is back! I want to see him too!” The little girl who had been quietly sorting herbs suddenly stood up, her eyes bright with excitement.
Nina didn’t understand the words, but the boy translated for her. She remembered the man’s earlier comment about Mr. Micah’s connection to Pharaoh. This might be a chance to learn more.
“Let’s go have a look.” She was curious about this Mr. Micah.
“Okay.” The boy stood up, bid the old woman goodbye, and led Nina toward the source of the children’s voices.
After a short walk, Nina saw a group of children gathered around a man wearing a white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses. The man was tall, probably around six feet, with rolled-up sleeves and fair skin. His ash-blond curls gave him a scholarly and gentlemanly appearance. His smile was warm and inviting, like a breath of fresh air. He held a large paper bag, and like a modern-day Santa Claus, he pulled out items to give to the children around him.
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