One woman pushed to the front of the crowd. Some women were crying, for their husbands had not come home, and other women were admiring the treasures their husbands had brought back for them.
The woman had a boy at her side, one a year or so older than Rastaban.
“Rami, welcome home.” Her smile was warm, and for a moment she reminded Rastaban of mother, but then she saw him, and her face turned cold. “What’s this?”
“I found a boy in the village. A playmate for Dravi.” General Rami smiled. “His name is Rastaban, and he is strong.”
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