I don't need them anymore.
Bassena glanced at his guide's bare face as he drove. It was such a simple sentence, but what it entailed was far from simple.
What was the mask for Zein? It wasn't just a tool to keep miasma away from his respiratory system. It was also a tool to keep other filth away from him. It was a tool of survival. It was his dagger and his shield.
The mask was the icon of his security.
It contributed to the serenity of his mind, and had little to do with his physical security. Otherwise, he would have shed his mask the moment he stepped into the relatively safer green-zone, not to mention in Bassena's presence.
