A soft chuckle escaped the older man's mouth as he hid behind the bushes. He had a clear view of the group of field trippers. "Now, that's it. Fourteen and uh," he checked his watch. Boom! Just like clockwork, fifteen, right on time," he whispered as he emerged from behind the bushes, waving his arms frantically to get their attention.

"Look, over there, who's that?" Nyla whispered to Grace. They both looked at the man who was wearing flashy clothes.

"I have no idea. But looking at his cloak, he must be from Bevel city. There is only one designer that I know that makes a cloak like he's wearing."

"But why would someone from Bevel want to come out here into the wasteland?" Nyla asked, hands on her hips.

"I have no clue, but this...

Please subscribe to keep reading.