They plunged deeper into the maze of back streets, boots slapping against damp cobblestones as angry shouts echoed behind them. Naeria moved with purpose, each turn deliberate, each shortcut clearly mapped in her mind.
Soren followed, shoulder screaming in protest as they vaulted a low wall and cut through an abandoned courtyard.
When they finally paused for breath in the shadow of an old tannery, the guards' voices had faded to distant echoes. The stink of chemical preservatives masked their scent, while the building's bulk shielded them from immediate view.
Naeria leaned against the wall, chest heaving, those strange books still clutched protectively against her body.
Up close, Soren could see the fine lines around her eyes, the thinness of her face that spoke of missed meals and too little sleep. Her left arm bore strange markings, faint, shimmering patterns like a lattice of scars or perhaps very fine tattoos that seemed to catch the fading light.
