Oliver munched on the snack his wife had prepared while speaking in a muffled voice. “We struck gold this time!” he mumbled.
Greta sent her husband a side-eye upon hearing his words. “Did you say that we’ve struck gold? We haven’t struck anything—the clan leader might even drop by later and strike us on our heads instead.” Greta settled in her seat and began to work on patching up one of their clothes as she continued speaking. “Mayaboy is such a useless girl. When did she hook up with that man from town? What an embarrassment! She’s all grown up now; how could she still give us so much trouble?”
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