My fists clench at the name, “Lim”, and I stare at the sea. He is still here, as a fugitive. 

“What did the president instruct us all to do?” I question Arif on his report, who is all sweating. 

Before we know it, Willow and I are dashing in the forest like mad. However, we spared fifteen minutes for Refi to give me a haircut. Arif and the rest pack our camping gear for us. Willow plans on continuing to camp in Maica during different days and ...