“Beekeeper,” Emil shouted. “Survivor of Stalingrad!” Two of the men continued on. But the one who’d been leading the pony stopped, pulled back his hood, and turned to look at Emil with a puzzled and then amused expression, as if someone had whispered a joke in his ear that he was only now getting. “Martel,” Corporal Gheorghe said, grinning at him. “I said I’d see you again, and there you stand!”
