John peers around the corner of the mudbrick structure, and looks out into what could be considered a village square of sorts. In its center was a wide well, with a low stone wall, perhaps 4' high. A wooden rig was constructed over the well, and a coiled rope was tied off on one end to the rig above the well, the other end to a wooden bucket sitting next to the well.
The buildings (8, 16, 17, & 18) looked more or less like their counterparts. Low-peeked thatch-roofs. Hand-woven fabrics hung in the doorways and windows showing a variety of color and geometric design.
The dogs happily approach, having been lured away from Russo by curiosity. The second dog went into a crouch near Sgt. Kestrel, and a long string of shit spooled out of him onto the ground beside the northern wall of shack #15. The shit was moving; it was more worms than feces. The other dog sniffed at it with great interest before snapping its attention towards the direction of the well, and the building beyond.
Both dogs tucked their tails under and headed back towards the front of town. Back towards Russo.