Her stomach pleading for nourishment, Kasia began spooning the tepid stew into her mouth. It was good. Or her hunger was just not discerning. She susp...cted both.Her eyes adjusted, taking in the rest of the camp. Most seemed to still be awake, gathered around fires in the circle of wagons. The circle seemed bigger, more space between the wagons. As if there was less fear, less need for protection. Perhaps there was. They were across the bridge. Their army was gathered around them. Who would dare. But then Trevor had his run-in with Coach Crawford. The coach was precisely the kind of man Trevor wanted to own. He had what amounted to absolute power over the teens on his football team. He was 52 years old, six foot four, with gray hair pretty much everywhere except the large bald spot on his head.He had been a linebacker at a major college but never got a chance at the pros. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, and had kept himself in excellent shape over the years. The problem was, like. More

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