Where’s Red from?

“You’re not in ______ anymore, Red. I own this piece of the road.”

The slaver leered at the crawling child. In the far north, this man had welded these children into his chain and would sell them where they knew not one cousin nor one word of the language. . . .

“Them Kasran slavers don’t talk much, boy.” . . .

“I’ll handle this.” Dad’s wrinkled sunburn came into view, and his deep baritone rumbled. “You’re not in Kasran anymore, Red. I own this piece of the road.”

Sniffles and a hiccup came from the little girl on the ground.

Elijah sucked in a breath. The set of Dad’s jaw was weapon enough to back most men down.

While he handed mutton and pickles to Nathan, Dad parked his bulging biceps and barrel chest next to the slaver.

The man hissed, slid the knife into his belt, and released his grip.

Elijah slumped to the ground.

The Boy Who Closed the Sky, Pages 4-6

Both Pakistan and Iran claim towns called Kasran. I doubt the residents have hair the color of the fictional slaver who held a knife to Elijah’s throat.



How close have you been to either Kasran?


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