"Tell me." You say, your tone deadly serious.
“You steal a wagon from the family and just leave off, stupid child.” Nan speaks quickly, punctuating sentences with sharp thumps from her cane. Between the anger in her voice and her thick Irish accent, the English and randomly blended Shelta she speaks are difficult to follow. “You've been caught doing something you shouldn't, and now you think you deserve answers? You listen to me—we hide in the dark of night because you say 'they are coming,' but you force us to follow blindly through woods and side roads. I'm tired. Who is coming? Why did you take wagon?
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