A hard-faced woman looks up at her, hand raised to shade the sun. She’s got a big SVD rifle and a wide, hard, chiseled face. It’s the face of a woman whose mind is a cork. She’s keeping something bottled up inside, a feeling so ugly she cannot let it out, because it would rule her. Erik knows this, because all that gets past that cork is the Look. The Look that means you’ve seen true evil.
