Cloaks

Passing what appeared to be another group of armed miners, me and the old miner continued on our way, not even bothering to risk an eye contact.

When they were finally far enough, the old miner suddenly spins and spat on the ground below, halting me on my tracks.

I stared at him, a scowl plastered on his face.

"Cloaks" He suddenly said.

What?

Cloaks?... what the hell is that?

I rose my brows in confusion, hoping he'll understand my message.

As if in direct response to the questions swirling in my mind, he pointed his finger towards my back. Curious, I shifted my gaze and fixed my eyes on the diminishing silhouettes of the unarmed miners, their figures receding as they moved in a direction opposite from our own.

Is that what they're called? this brutal group of armed miners who thinks they're the guardians and restorer of order in this place?

"Cloaks.. is that what they're called?" I asked him.

"Yes, Cloaks" he pause before pursing his lips, seemingly in deep thoughts, "dogs" He added
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