The old man stood on top of a big outcropping overlooking the waste ground. The city loomed high in the distance, but his squinting eye was not focussed on that but rather the wooden cart that rattled towards him, kicking up a high cloud of dreary dust. He gestured to the younger man who was lying flat on the rock basking in the sun.
“Look,” he muttered. “They’re dropping off a new crop.” He sat down cross-legged and watched philosophically as the cart drew to a halt, and its driver stood up and kicked a body out of the back of it.
The young man sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Looks like a rich girl. They don’t exile them often. Wonder what she did?”

Chapter Eleven