“Dravi doesn’t like you.” Khouri was one of the other soldiers’ sons and a good runner. Rastaban had admired him from the sidelines of several games when he’d opted to sit out with Dravi.
“I noticed,” Rastaban said. “I don’t know why.” He shouldered a bundle of kindling sticks and started back toward camp.
Khouri trotted alongside him. “He’s afraid The General doesn’t love him anymore.”
“Rami is his father - of course he loves Dravi,” Rastaban said.
Khouri shrugged. “The General is nicer to you.”
“Maybe Dravi should hunt more,” Rastaban said, but he knew Khouri’s words were too true.
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