stranger in their midst. Shea assumed he was one of those not from the Wind Division that Clark had spoken about earlier.
Charles stopped speaking and looked at him expectantly. “Yes, you had a question?”
“What about this mist that seems to be popping up everywhere all of a sudden? You haven’t given us any information on that.”
Charles looked momentarily nonplussed, glancing around the class as if they might have the answer. When everyone looked at him expectantly, he said in a hesitant voice, “The mist is a new threat that we don’t have a lot of information on yet. Does anybody here have any observations?”
There was a long pause as the rest of the men and a few women glanced around. None stood to offer their opinion. A few shook their heads and sat back.
Another stranger, this one also with a patch Shea didn’t recognize, asked, “Isn’t that what we’re here for? So you can tell us how to survive this thing?” His voice was impatient, with the barest edge of derision in it.
The feeling of the crowd shifted, the undercurrents ugly and rife with anger as the scouts and soldiers from the Wind Division glared at the man.
Charles looked around with unease, sensing the worsening mood. Everyone was on edge. It was a situation that could explode into violence as the people present turned their skills to something they could control—beating each other senseless.
He made a placating motion with his hands. “We’re all a little uneasy about what this mist is and what it can do. The purpose behind these classes is to bring our heads together so we can figure out sound strategies to overcome the obstacles we face on a daily basis.”
“This is ridiculous. I bet you have no idea how to handle this. I can’t believe my war band insisted I attend.”
A man in the front stood up. He was big, easily taller than most of the men here. He looked like he had been cut from stone with a blunt chisel, his features rough and half formed. “How ‘bout you keep your mouth shut if you’ve nothing helpful to add?”
If a man who looked like that—with a body built for violence and a face that looked like it belonged on a berserker—spoke to her like that, Shea thought she might do whatever he asked, especially when his question had a tone that made it clear what the consequences would be if you didn’t listen.
Charles looked overwhelmed and out of his element as he tried to intervene. “Let’s not let our emotions get the best of us. We’re all just looking for answers.”
“Stay out of it, cripple,” the stranger snapped.
The other man’s face darkened, and he looked like he was going to leap across the crowd to wrap his hands around the stranger’s neck.
“You shouldn’t run,” Shea said, her voice ringing through the air. The statement was strange enough and out of context enough that both men paused to glance her way.
“Shea.” Charles looked unhappy as he glanced from her to the other man.
Many of those gathered recognized her, having been on missions with her, or having heard her story. She was a bit notorious with the Wind Division scouts. Clark and Buck liked to brag on her, trying to convince any who listened that they knew her first and taught her everything she knew. A lie, for the most part.
“The first thing to know about the mist is that you shouldn’t run from it. One—you’ll never be fast enough, and two—it knows when someone acts like prey. Running will just attract it.”
The stranger guffawed, a sound of stunned disbelief. “What’s this? Superstition is what you’re teaching these people? Who is this anyways?”
He took in her appearance, his lip curling in a sneer. Guess he didn’t recognize her. She sighed. She’d thought she was past having to deal with idiots. Looked like she was wrong. She was beginning to think there was one in every group. Perhaps it was simply her burden to bear.
“Someone who knows considerably more about the mist than you, obviously.”
Clark snorted back a laugh at her dry tone. He always got an odd joy when she put others down with the sharp edge of her tongue.
“I seriously doubt some throwaway knows anything of worth.”
There was a rumble of anger at the last statement. Clark puffed up and looked like he was going to leap to her defense. Shea shook her head at him and he settled back.
Assured that Clark wasn’t going make things