“So, you think you’re clever, then?” he asked softly. “I have no time to waste on kids who say too much and know too much"
Close up, the Boss looked a hundred times more vicious than when they’d seen him by the campfire. Everything about him was huge, from the beefy fists planted on his hips, to the monstrous bush of black beard on his face, to the oversized nostrils flaring in fury as he surveyed the two boys cowering in the corner of the tent.
“So,” he said, the traces of a foreign accent even more marked in his barely restrained anger. “So, these are the two busybodies who had to waste the precious time and resources of my men by snooping around here in the middle of the night?”
Elchanan forced himself to stare right back at the giant man, hoping the fear that he felt wasn’t reflected in his eyes. Next to him, Avi started mumbling under his breath. Was he saying Shema?
Elchanan twisted around to look at his partner, but Avi’s eyes were darting all over. He looked terrified out of his wits.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.