525 - Foreign Relations

The last of the sun shone slantwise through the open caravan windows and the scent of dinner cooking wafted across the Gybir's traditional clearing.  The surf murmur of the sea barely audible over the ridge. Gannara slapped the Pages down on the caravan bed, smacking his hand flat on the paper.  "Are these idiots real?"
Farasha looked up from where she was measuring out a hank of thread.  "