Ronan carried two wooden bowls down the narrow path toward the edge of camp where Class B kept its prisoners.
The evening light filtered through the canopy.
Locke and Reddy sat separated by several meters, both bound, and both looking absolutely miserable.
Locke straightened when he noticed Ronan approaching, adopting what he probably thought was a dignified posture despite the rope around his wrists.
Reddy just glared.
Ronan stopped in front of Locke first, crouching to set one bowl within reach.
"Dinner."
"Appreciated." Locke nodded, accepting the food without complaint. "You've treated me fairly, Ashbourne. I won't forget that. You are honorable despite the petty claims of your character."
He gave Locke a curt nod.
Ronan moved toward Reddy next, extending the second bowl.
Reddy's hand shot out.
He slapped the bowl hard, sending it spinning through the air.
Soup splattered across the dirt, chunks of meat and vegetables scattering everywhere.
