‘Did you find anything?’ he asked.
The assassin shrugged. ‘There’s a small farm about three kilometres away. There are animals there, so we’ll have meat at least.’
Tennyson had sent the two Genovesans to scout the surrounding area. What little food they had remaining was almost inedible and they were going to have to find more. Now, at the mention of fresh meat, his spirits lifted.
‘Vegetables? Flour? Grain?’ he asked. Bacari shrugged again. It was an infuriating movement, Tennyson thought. It conveyed a world of disdain for the person being addressed.
‘Possibly,’ Bacari said. ‘It seems like a prosperous little place.’

Halt's Peril, Chapter 9