I had no direct involvement in this part, so I really don't see why I should be held accountable. I guess a student of history can't pick and choose the truths he likes. Well, that's not entirely true, but in this case, I must at least acknowledge it. To say I wasn't at all involved might not be entirely true. I do admit that I am technically to blame for what is yet to come. We'll get to that, and I'm sure you'll agree that it's not my fault.
Something felt off. This had been too easy. To walk out like that. Grab a few books in a plastic bag and walk out. For that to have gone unnoticed... things weren't adding up. She'd been expecting a fight despite her preparations. Decent wasn't taken lightly. She touched the necklace she'd been given, first through the fabric of her shirt, then she lifted it out. It was a small bell made from wrought iron. When she held it, the clapper dangled, hitting the bow and making a surprisingly deep sound for such a small bell. She felt a presence, as if someone was watching her from behind. She let the bell fall and spun around, raising her hand, ready to kill whoever came close. No one was there. She stared out into the dark woods, squinting, trying to spot any movement or silhouette that was out of place. Nothing. Her eyes fell to her outstretched hand. It was blackened and broken. Her fingers were bent, like she had accidentally left her hand too close to a piece of industrial machinery and gotten it stuck. She clenched it, but had no sensation in it whatsoever. Despite how her hand looked, she had no problem moving it. Every broken bone worked like its own joint. Whenever she was in the mood to joke around, she sometimes imagined her hand was a wounded spider, missing three legs. To her, that was fun; others usually didn't find it that amusing. She brought it back down to her side. She couldn't stay here, so she picked up the plastic bag and returned to walking.
Once day broke, she would have to hide somewhere. She would get new clothes, a haircut, buy a pair of glasses, and maybe a hat. She would need to do everything in her power to stay out of sight. She needed a new passport to escape the country. move somewhere where she could hide out, get some plastic surgery, then hide permanently. Once she was safe, she could get to work.
She walked for hours before she saw the edge of the forest. She stopped and placed the bag on the ground beside a tree. She knelt and began reciting a hymn, slow, quiet at first, then with a bit more power, then quietly again. The hymn was made to evoke the feeling of a church bell. She knew the words by heart, knew what the hymn meant, but understood none of the words. They were all in some old foreign language, and the wordplay was supposedly very impressive, but none of that mattered to her. The point was to draw from the forests' energy, concentrating it around herself. She heard flies buzzing around her, and the wind blew through the trees, sounding almost like a long, shallow breath. Once she was done, she drew a sign in the air before her with her dark hand, then stood up. She felt a sudden burst of horrible pain halfway up her lower arm, which then faded into numbness. The bag in front of her sank into the moss and roots by the tree. Earth moved like arms embracing the package, engulfing it. Once she was satisfied no one would be able to find it, she turned and left the woods. She was careful to make sure she would find the same tree again later.
When she emerged from among the trees, she found herself standing behind a grill-pizzeria combo. She felt her stomach. No time to think about food now. She looked around for a second in the grass and moss, where she found a large stone. She picked it up, carried it, and dropped it on the ground between two trees. It would show her exactly where she came from. She probably could have done the same thing with magic, but since she hadn't prepared for it, this would be easier. This way would also make her whereabouts less obvious. She stepped out into the street and looked up towards the streetlights. Tiny raindrops were falling and catching the yellowish light. The kind of rain where the drops weren't really only a misting, barely falling, carried by the wind. She liked this kind of weather. This place would do fine as long as she only stayed for the day. Tomorrow night, she would steal a car and see how far she could get. Even so, she was already in some danger. She wasn't dumb; she had made arrangements and contingencies for those arrangements. She made it seem as if she were busy at work, setting up mail to be sent to people over the next two days. People would think she was doing one thing, and when they inevitably checked, there was a series of plausible reasons she couldn't be where she should be. At this point, it all depended on who was trying to find her. If someone like Emet or Vera came looking for her, she had no time to waste. She set out to scout the area.