They had already been on the move for half a day, which in Lee's book meant that either the criminals were unusually careful, or they had somebody feeding them information, and neither option made him happy because both meant more work.
The terrain was a mess, a mix of tall yellow grass, patches of cracked soil, and shallow ravines that could swallow a man if he was dumb enough to sprint while looking at the sky.
The air was hot, the kind of heat that didn't bother cultivators until it suddenly did, because it slowly drained your focus the same way a bad conversation drained your patience.
"Are you sure it's them?" Osrick asked for the third time, and Lee didn't blame himfor it, because what they were doing looked like wandering in circles like a bunch of idiots.
