D'mina accepted the proffered hand and scrambled to her feet. "No, I'm fine--"
Quote from: Eckhart_Von_Musel on November 10, 2017, 05:34:07 AM
"There he is!" a voice yelled from down the street. "There's the necromancer! And he has a friend! Get them!"
"Shit" Wallace thought. He gave the woman a timid look. "We gotta run!"
Mina gawked at the angry mob, regretting at once her decision to look for the source of the commotion. She nearly acted on her first impulse, which was to step forward and proclaim in an authoritative voice that Serendipity was a nation of laws, and this sort of vigilante justice was entirely inappropriate.
A thrown rock bounced off the wall of the building just over her left shoulder, and she thought better of it.
"Yes, let's do that," she muttered, wide-eyed, as she took a shaky step backwards. "Running is now authorized."
Mina hugged her pile of notes and books to her chest and turned to flee. "This way!" she called out, hoping the strange man wouldn't pick this particular moment to argue or ask questions. The mob reacted to her sudden retreat with an angry roar, and surged down the lane in their direction. "Turn left up ahead! It's a shortcut to the market! Maybe we can lose them there!"
'Left up ahead' would turn out to be an even narrower alley between two closely-spaced buildings, littered with refuse shoved up against the walls. The second stories of the houses were wider than the ground floors, and nearly touched each other above the passageway, giving the whole path a dim, seedy vibe. One might wonder, if one had such luxury of time to wonder anything, how often a prim woman prone to wearing white would actually use such an alleged 'shortcut'.
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