Wounded

Ning walked along with the people in the dark, with a single firewood to light their way to the camp these people had set up.

He heard the men grunt as they walked, some in pain, some in fatigue. He could smell day-old sweat and grime from these men. Their hygiene was the worst it could be, but he couldn't blame them for it.

"May I ask what your name is?" Ning asked the man who was clearly their leader.

"I would rather not speak my name, little brother," the man said. "I do not wish to disrespect you but I am not in a position where I can speak my name just like that."

"I see," Ning said. "And where are you guys from? Or can you not tell me that either?"

"We're from the city over. We are trying to make our journey through the mountains, but ended up having to return halfway through," the man said.

"Which city was this?" Ning asked.

"The one you were headed to," the man said.

"Ah! You guys are from Filam?" Ning asked.