Pol stood next to the wagons and laughed and teased with Ayitah, oblivious to the glares and hateful glances being thrown Ayitah’s way by all the other girls.
“Where are all the men?” Pol asked as he looked around.
“They may be hunting,” she told him.
“Are they?” he asked.
“No,” she said. Pol waited hoping his silence would prompt her to speak.
“They could be trading,” she said to fill the silence.
“No,” she answered.
Another girl walked up and interrupted, “They’ve gone to war against the Creek. The chief’s grandson is being held hostage at Nodoroc.”