Kira breathes deep, the mingling scent of weed and woodfire. It's familiar now, in a way he hadn't experienced before the village. They hadn't really huddled up to get high around the oil drums full of trash and broken furniture, when central heating stopped being available.

Still, it reminds him. Or just what Bruce describes. "No offense, you don't really seem like military."

He'd know, wouldn't he?

"At the inn, at Mark's house down the road. There's at least a list of people at the inn, lets you know who's keeping records in the first place."