Shayla, codename "Shark", has rendezvoused in the forest with two members of a terrorist cell, Cobra and Tiger. We now meet the final member of the party...
A shrunken figure, swathed in a grubby, threadbare cloak, stood to greet them.
"Eating again, Weasel?" Cobra said with a laugh.
Uneven teeth flashed through straggly whiskers. Shayla realized there was a faint smell of cooking hanging in the air, reminding her stomach how little food it had seen recently. Her pack held a small supply of concentrated rations, enough for minimal sustenance, woefully inadequate for a body stressed by long hours of hard slog.
"Shark, meet Weasel," said Cobra. "He doesn't say much, but he is very useful to have around."
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