At sundown, the boys assembled at the edge of the camp, kills in hand. Rastaban had brought down a hind with a single, swift throw. He was unsurprised to see Dravi bearing a generous brace of rabbits, but then Rhajj, one of the other boys, wore a guilty expression and carried two rabbits of his own.
“That many? Really?” Khouri asked.
“Everyone but Rami will know it’s a lie,” Rastaban said easily.
Then Khouri frowned. “Why is your face bruised? Did you have to wrestle her to the ground? It looks like a clean wound -”
“Dirt clean.” Rastaban looked away.
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