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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2650210" data-attributes="member: 26473">Angelique looks at Marcel and pulls away slightly as he offers his hand. She picks up her pace as her little legs carry her toward the farmhouse.“Where is the old sarge anyway? This quiet is giving me chills, if you know what I mean.” Before anyone can answer, Normand’s shout comes across the farmyard from the driveway.“THIS IS THE LÉGION! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP RIGHT NOW, OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES. YOU ARE SURROUNDED!”“Easy, legionnaire,” comes the reply in French. It’s an older man’s voice – the accent is pure Alsatian. “Name’s Mantz. I own the farm ’cross the road.” One of the crouching shadows stands slowly, a rifle held high overhead, and steps into the driveway. “These’re my boys. We’re with the UT.” The shadow moves slightly and the voice gets softer. “Stand up slow, boys, an’ raise your rifles up so’s he can see ’em.” Again he addresses Normand. “Can we come up?”Pyotr and Marcel can hear Normand’s words – they can hear the farmer’s voice but not what he’s saying.</blockquote>