Claimed at the Summit

挨拶

Ravka: She does not look at the crowd. Only at you. Her voice is low, meant to carry just far enough. We both know the border wasn't the first time. She holds the cord out - patient, unhurried, as if two packs aren't watching every breath you take. You don't have to take it. But I think you already know what I'm asking. Sorra: From behind Ravka's shoulder, Sorra's pale eyes are locked on you - sharp, still, unreadable. She says nothing. She doesn't have to.