“Joining a rebellion is much like ordering a mystery meal at the Tower, Chancellor. You never know which course is going to betray you.”

— Dread Emperor Traitorous

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Will he beat me if I’m caught?

I sized up my mark with care from a shadowed alcove around the corner at the opposite side of the street. The slab of lard was dressed in fancy clothing, complete with golden chains and rings around his fingers. The kind of clothing that said he was new to his prosperity. People who were used to being rich didn’t flaunt their wealth like this.

That wasn’t good for my odds.

Newly made merchants were often more vicious, but I wasn’t sure why. Harion had said they were trying to distance themselves from their own time spent being poor. I didn’t buy his explanation. Either way, I couldn’t afford the injuries.

Life would have been easier if I had a weapon. Unfortunately, those kept being stolen from me by the other kids on the street.

I’d trade rubies for piglets just to have something to eat.

A harsh, grating noise echoed out from the other end of the alley.

I twitched.

Mortar gave, then half of the wall of the building behind me had collapsed. I sighed. It wasn’t the Legions. They would drag me back to an orphanage, or possibly do worse. I wasn’t entirely sure what. I’d considered returning to an orphanage just for a day before running off again, but decided that it wasn’t worth the risk. Orphanages… weren’t safe.

The beast that had taken up residence in my stomach growled at me. I cast a longing gaze towards the pouch on the man’s belt. The fop strolled closer.

Picking his pocket was risky. People like him were always more alert to thieves. I looked up. The sky was clear, and the sun had almost reached its peak.

A light spring wind gusted past.

My stomach rumbled once again.

If I don’t find a mark before noon, I may as well run back to one of those houses of madness myself.

Finding another spot would take too long, and it would probably be in use by someone else. I didn’t want to end up in a scuff over territory. Besides, my spot was already good. It was a narrow alley between the markets and the wealthier parts of Laure and hurried merchants who were confident in their own safety often used it as a shortcut.

This merchant would have to do. Besides, he was probably collaborating with the Praesi. Nobody became rich these days without allying themselves with the enemy.

I rolled my shoulders, then started to run towards my mark. I ignored the dull, throbbing ache in my legs, as well as the pain from all the other bruises beneath my shirt. The two of us collided, then I reached out furtively as both of us fell to the ground and pulled at one of the pouches on his belt.

Coins spilled like grain across the dusty road.

I kicked one of them far away in the confusion.

“Clumsy oaf,” the merchant scowled at me.

His eyes settled on the coins. Both of us rose to our feet. He seized my wrist before I could speak.

“You’re not trying to rob me, are you?” he asked in a whiney voice.

“No sir,” I lied, “I’m a messenger, sir.”

He looked up from the coins and examined me.

“Well, that does look like a messenger’s uniform, but it’s filthy,” he sniffed, “and that smell.”

I’d taken it from the corpse of a messenger I’d found lying in one of the more dangerous roads. It was a bit too big for me, but with some work I’d made it fit. Better to be mistaken for a messenger than an orphan who had run away from an orphanage. It fooled most, but I wasn’t willing to risk running into someone from the Legions. They were far more alert.

“I got caught downwind of the wrong end of an ox earlier,” I lied.

The white of the messenger’s uniform was stained brown after days of accumulated dirt. I didn’t have the time to clean it. Survival was my first priority, my goals were the second, and cleanliness had long fallen by the wayside.

“Why haven’t you made yourself presentable since then?”

“Pay me more, and I’ll take better care of it.”

To my relief, he didn’t notice that I was too young to be a messenger. My marks hardly ever did. I believed it was because they were always too caught up in the moment to pay close enough attention, but I wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, it was time to put up a fight, but not too much of one. I’d learned early on in my time on the streets that my marks were far warier if I gave in to pressure immediately.

“How dare you. Why, I’ll-” his cheeks reddened and his other hand raised.

“I’m late,” I interrupted. “I’ve got a message for the Legions.”

“Tell me your message, and you can go.”

“No.”

“Tell me your message.”

“They’ll do worse than whatever you do to me if I snitch to somebody else.”

“Fine,” he huffed, “but turn out your pockets.”

I looked down at my own trousers, patted them with my free hand, then grinned at the man.

“I don’t have any.”

The man cursed under his breath, before turning back to me.

“Pick up the coins and return them all to me, then you may go.”

“You’re holding up my message.”

“Then perhaps you should have considered the cost of your clumsiness before you stumbled into this alley,” he stated, smiling at me.

Smug bastard looks far too satisfied.

“It must be hard to see a scrawny messenger like me over your own paunch.”

The man purpled with rage.

“Why you lousy-”

He raised a hand.

“The Legions won’t be pleased,” I interrupted.

“Your troubles with your employer do not concern me,” he screeched.

Despite his words, his grip loosened.

Good, that’s enough.

“Fine.”

I bent down and returned his money to him.

“This is one coin short,” he whined as I placed the pouch in his palm.

I was almost there. So long as I didn’t tense, or do anything else to give my game away, the prize was ready to be claimed.

“Not my problem,” I breathed out, loosening my shoulders.

“Perhaps it should be docked from your pay.”

“You can come with me and explain to the Legions why I am late if you want.”

The merchant gave me another long glare, before at long last turning away.

“No, no. Fine. You may go.”

Finally!

The merchant grumbled as he left. I walked the other way. It took effort to hide my excitement. I reached towards the lone coin which had landed atop a hedge beside the road.

It was a full piece of Praesi gold. One that was almost the size of my palm. Not just gold, but the highest value coin as well.

This is more than I’ve had this whole past week.

I coated it with dirt and closed my hand around it to hide the glint. Best not to let anyone else know about my spoils. The rim dug lines into my palm.

The coin was heavy, but I didn’t even feel the weight.

My head was in the clouds.

Flush with success, I left with a lightness to my step. I almost floated off the floor in excitement.

A full piece of Praesi gold. I’ve really snagged a full piece of gold. No waiting around, no hesitating, straight to the Rat’s Nest to spend it. I get to have a proper meal today.

A traitorous part of me whispered about how much better it had been living in the orphanage. How good life had been in comparison. I never would have considered this a good day only a single year ago. I squashed the thought.

It’s a great day, Cat. Don’t let the past fool you. The streets are safer.

The sweet smells of freshly baked bread and ripe fruits called out to me as I drew closer to the market. I slowed. My tongue licked my chapped lips in silent protest. If my mouth could water, it would have, but it had been dry and grimy for weeks.

Could I risk the market instead? It was closer, and the food there was both fresher and cheaper. Maybe just this once? No… The Legions were always there, and I needed to stay out of their way if I want to stay on the streets. Besides, the merchants there would ask questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer.

Dizzy, I forced myself to limp away from the market. I stuck to narrow alleys as I made my way deeper into the warrens of derelict buildings. The walk was a haze of suffering.

Down one street.

Check over my shoulder for any other thieves — that was always a risk — then check around the corner.

Step by step, I drew closer to my meal for the day. More likely, my meal for the week.

At last, I arrived outside the Rat’s Nest. I made my way to the backside of the building and slammed my fist against the kitchen door.

A fly buzzed around my head while I waited.

It wasn’t worth wasting my strength to chase it away.

“Back again, Catherine?” a voice called.

I looked up. The door opened. A skinny man was dressed in plain brown wool stood on the other side of it.

“I’ll take whatever this buys me.”

I opened my palm and showed him the coin.

“I wasn’t expecting this to become a regular occurrence when I found you sleeping in this alley months ago,” he muttered.

“It’s late,” I gestured again, “I’m hungry.”

“Praesi gold?” he ran his hand through his balding hair and sighed. “You’re not going to save any?”

“Somebody will knife me if I hold onto it.”

I’d tried saving money at first. I’d given up on the idea after being cornered more than once. It was best to get the full value for my money, then not keep any at all.

I didn’t like it, but I was trying to be practical about staying alive.

His gaze softened.

“Look, Catherine, I’ll take this and not ask any questions, but-”

“It would kill me.”

I wasn’t sure if there was a word for a place you kept people that went mad in the head. If there was, it was the kind of place orphanages had turned into.

“Take care not to dirty my kitchen,” he grumbled. “Maria, get Catherine something to eat. As much as this buys, but no more,” he tossed the coin at the girl behind him. “You know what to do before you’re allowed to eat?”

He peered over his shoulders, but I knew the question was directed at me.

“Do my best to clean myself. I know.”

His shoulders slumped. He backed out of the doorway. I followed behind. I spent a few moments washing my hands in a bucket beside the door, then ran my bony fingers through the grime in my matted hair. It didn’t make much of a difference in my opinion, but it made Harion happy, so I went along with it.

I washed my hands one last time before drying them, then sat down on a stool beside the kitchen table.

Harion stomped his way out the kitchen. I watched Maria work in while I waited. I was tempted to simply seize the foods around me and eat them as they were. The smells were overpowering.

It took all my restraint to remain seated where I was.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Catherine,” Harion sighed.

“What did you say?” I snapped out of my reverie.

“Here are the documents I need you to read for me,” he proffered them towards me. “I’d like to pay you for this, but…”

Times are hard, and we must all learn to live with the boot on our throat.

Not that I planned to live with it for much longer, anyway.

“Can I eat first?”

“You won’t stop when you start.”

I frowned. He was right, as much as I wished that he wasn’t. This would be my first proper meal for the week.

I took the documents and started to read them to him. It was a proclamation detailing the new curfews in response to the rising chaos. There were many words that I didn’t know. Words that I had to skip over because I hadn’t learned them before I’d ended up on the streets. It was still cheaper for Harion to make use of me than to hire somebody else to read for him.

It took some time before I finished.

My eyes kept drifting towards the ingredients on the opposite end of the table.

“You were right about the orphanages,” he muttered.

Harion reached for a bottle on one of the shelves behind him and popped the cork off, taking a swallow as he turned back to me. The news must be awful. It was rare for him to drink anything that he sold.

“Somebody else burn one to the ground?”

“Not this time. Some five-year-old boy died in one. He came back as a ghost, then killed all the other kids. Rumours claim that he kept asking for his favourite toy.”

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“Only corpses live in orphanages,” I agreed.

Things happened at orphanages. They had been happening for a while. Other children started to go missing more and more often, and those who didn’t disappear became cautious. They were right to, because the last group were those who developed a case of strange in the head.

Like Lydia.

One day I had returned to the Laure House for Tragically Orphaned Girls and one look had been enough to tell me that her mind was more than a few nibbles short of a full loaf of bread. She followed me around everywhere, spent hours staring at flames.

Even filling her bedding with rotten vegetables hadn’t been enough to put her off.

She’d just tried to sleep beside me in my own.

I’d decided it was better to live on the streets than sleep beside that barrel of Goblinfire.

“Laure’s Shelter for Forsaken Boys.”

So Flaccid Shelter got a taste of the madness as well, then. What a pity. The boys there made for halfway decent company.

“Sounds like some kind of bad Praesi story.”

“You don’t even know the half of it, kid.”

“What did they do about it? Call in the Calamities again?”

I’d have bet on them calling in a priest, only the local House of Light had been sacked during the last rebellion for hiding rebels and hadn’t recovered in the aftermath. Finding a priest had been hard ever since. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t afford to be injured. The cost of wizard’s services for healing had risen sky-high now that they had no priestly competition.

As if I needed another reason to be angry at the Dread Empire of Praes.

“Way I hear it, they called in a fancy wizard.”

Maria finished preparing the food and placed a plate down in front of me. I dipped the bread into a bowl of broth and started to scarf it down. It was so satisfying to eat something after so long without a proper meal that I could barely restrain myself.

“Careful. Eat slower, kid. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“M’nt sre whn ll gt nthr meal lk this,” I said around the edge of the loaf.

The tastes, the smells, everything about the meal was bliss to me. Had food always been this good?

Harion sighed.

For just one moment, I considered asking him if he could help me with my goal. There was talk of rebellion on the street and I wanted to join up. I dismissed the idea. It was better not to risk it. He served the Legion up front, and I wasn’t sure whether he’d sell me out.

One bowl was emptied and another was placed before me.

It didn’t last much longer, either.

I hummed a merry tune while I ate. One that I didn’t know the words of.

I didn’t think I’d ever heard it before, so I wasn’t sure how it had wormed its way into my head.

All too soon, there was nothing left for me to eat.

Harion furrowed his brow.

“Here, have a little extra,” he said.

Another bowl was brought forward.

“Sure, but why?”

“Today’s Foundling Day.”

It wasn’t as if that meant anything. Another year passed, so what? I didn’t need to be fifteen. It wasn’t as if I was trying to enrol in the Legions.

“It’s better off down my throat anyhow.”

I polished off the bowl, then gave Harion a weary smile.

“You should ask around and see if anyone will take you in,” he advised.

I shifted on the stool. My eyes drooped. I felt comfortably bloated. Satisfied in a way that I hadn’t felt for weeks.

“As if anyone can afford to,” I snorted.

“Hope it all comes to an end soon.”

I finished licking the crumbs off my sallow fingers, then looked towards the door.

“Time to go.”

A firm hand settled upon my shoulders.

“Take care out there, won’t you kid?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Rebels tried to hit somewhere in the city last night.”

I stopped so abruptly that I almost fell flat on my face.

This was my chance.

“Really?” I tried to keep my excitement out of my voice. “Where did they hit?”

“A Lakeside warehouse. That’s close to where you stay.”

“What makes you think I live there?”

“Kid, you smell like fish guts whenever I see you,” he snorted.

“Maybe I help out at the docks.”

He gave me a flat stare, then shook his head.

“Rumours say they’re going to try again tonight. You take care now, you hear me?”

I wished him farewell, then left the Rat’s Nest and made my way towards the Lakeside. I pulled back my collar and peered beneath my shirt. The purpling of my bruises had almost faded. Good. I turned my attention back to my surroundings. It took plenty of effort to avoid Legion patrols. I had to duck behind rubble and find shelter whenever I heard the sound of boots on stone.

Broken buildings and ruined roads paved the way towards the docks.

Most people took one look at me and then turned up their noses. The rest pretended that I didn’t exist.

I was accosted once by another gang of kids, but allowed to pass once the scavengers realized that I had nothing worth stealing.

They didn’t even try to beat me up when they let me go. I’d have given as good as I got, but I’d like to keep my teeth a little longer. Today really is a good day.

It was the reason I hadn’t decided to live in these abandoned buildings. Thieves had already banded together and taken up residence. I’d considered joining up for a time, but speaking to some of them had convinced me otherwise.

I’d heard rumours that the Thieves' Guild was facing similar troubles to orphanages. Rumours weren’t proof, but they were as good as confirmation in my eyes, considering the state of Laure.

No, it was better for me to avoid them.

I arrived at the abandoned wreck of a windmill I’d been using for shelter. It had been abandoned since Lydia had damaged it in her rampage. People claimed it was bad luck to approach, but that just meant it was safe for me to sleep here without the risk of being attacked in the night by anyone else.

I made my way through the shattered doorway into my makeshift home. Light shone in through the holes that had been burned into the side of the windmill. The stairs creaked as I ascended the stairs.

The only places not marked with dust were the markings left by my own two feet.

I reached the landing at the top floor.

Part of the roof had been burned away. The ground beckoned from below.

I steeled my beating heart and stared down at it.

My hand tightened around the railing.

One day, Cat.

A hundred heartbeats passed, then a hundred more.

I gasped, panted, looked away.

My body was slick with sweat.

I descended the stairs, stopped one floor down.

I looked around. My old dress from the orphanage was clean and folded neatly atop an empty barrel. Did I want to put it on, or should I wear the messenger uniform?

I snorted.

What did it matter? It wasn’t like I had much to wear. Even adjusting the uniform to fit me had been the work of several days. There’d still been some abandoned grain in the windmill back then.

I hadn’t yet known what it felt like to starve.

I sat down on one of the sack cushioned barrels, then glanced towards the pile of empty sacks I used for bedding. They were wearing thin now, but at least the winter had come to an end.

I looked up. Glanced at the map I’d made in the dust coating the wall. It was crude, but it outlined the rough shape of Laure and every location a rebel attack had been sighted. I’d been trying to make contact with them so that I could join.

I didn’t bother to add another mark.

Today would be the day.

I felt it in the gnawing in my stomach and the throbbing across my chest.

It would have been easier if I could ask around. Unfortunately, I’d noticed that people who asked questions tended to disappear. So I kept my thoughts to myself until one day I stumbled upon them on my own.

My eyes lingered on the map for a few moments, before drifting to a hole in the wall. The lake could be seen in the distance. The last nets were cast. Fishing boats returned to the docks as the late afternoon sun fell towards the waters. Golden rays spilled across sails and oars.

I thought of Her. The hero that I had once met. Everyone I’d met spoke of her as if she was the next coming of Elizabeth Alban. My lips curled into an angry frown. She could have done something. She could have stopped all of this in Liesse. Everyone said she’d been bested by the Warlock, but I knew better.

I’d spoken to her.

She hadn’t been bested, she’d run away.

She’d run back to Procer with her tail between her legs because she was too afraid to do the right thing. Who cares if people died during a war if they chose to fight? Callow needed to be freed, and the Calamities needed to be brought down.

No, the Aspirant was no hero. She hadn’t raised the flag of rebellion and pushed back the Dread Empire of Praes.

Callow needed a hero. All of us knew that. Everyone spoke about it when they thought nobody else was listening.

Muttered words spoken under breaths in quiet alleys or on otherwise empty docks.

Callow had needed one ever since the burning of Liesse.

I’d do better than her. I’d be that hero — that knight in shining armour — no matter what it took.

The sun dipped below the waterline.

It was time.

I winced as I rose to my feet.

The door slammed shut behind me as I left the windmill and headed towards the warehouses. The smell of fish was rank in the air. Dull, flickering torches lit the edge of the docks.

The docks were almost deserted.

I slowed as I passed a pale man hidden inside a cloak. I looked up, met his piercing green eyes, then glanced away. He was smiling the way I used to when I played a prank on somebody else. My pace picked up. Soon I found myself alone once more.

The dull thunk of boots against the rotten wooden planks around the shore caused me to slow. I glanced from side to side. There was an empty ally to one side. I limped into out of the light into it, then hid in the shadows behind a fallen rooftop.

I held my breath as one of the Legion patrols marched past.

They stalled. Took a brief look into my hiding place.

The sound of my heart must have echoed all the way to the other side of the city.

The patrol marched on.

I breathed out.

There was a time when I’d looked up to the Legions of Terror. That time had faded to the back of my mind. During the last rebellion, the Legions had strung up the rebel leaders and crucified them outside the city gates.

I’d given the dying leaders a good, long stare before leaving.

Allowed the image of their bleeding, whimpering bodies to burn itself into my memory.

That had removed any blinders I had about the Legion’s true purpose. They were here to enforce the will of the Empire. The boot was only comfortable provided we were willing to lick it. I’d feed them their own leather soles before I was done. I wanted to see if they liked the taste of it just as much as we did.

It wasn’t long until the sound of the patrol faded into the distance. I rose from my hiding place and drew closer to the warehouses.

Was that a blaze in the distance? Had the rebels already struck at their target?

My pace picked up.

It wasn’t long before I found myself standing before a burning warehouse. Corpses lay strewn outside the doors. At least two dozen men and women, gutted like pigs and left to burn in the flames.

A Legion patrol stood camped outside the only way into and out of the warehouse in a line. Desperate men and women threw themselves against them, only to be cut down. The dying screams and cries of anguish lit a spark within me. The rebels had tried to strike at a target, only to be cut down.

The smell of sizzling flesh reminded me of cooked pork.

My stomach rumbled.

I forced my hunger aside.

One of the corpses further away from the massacre twitched.

No, not a corpse.

A boy who was only a few years older than me at most.

Still alive.

Perhaps I could save him? Then he could introduce me to the rebellion. The only problem was doing so without being caught.

I scuttled forward, careful to stick in the shadows.

It was better not to be seen.

My heart thundered within me. The Legion patrol never turned my way.

The heat of the flames beat mercilessly against me even from a distance. I knelt down beside him, then rolled him onto his back. He coughed. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest. I leaned in closer. The wound didn’t appear that bad. It wasn’t bleeding as much as I thought it should have, but what did I know aside from my own experience? I looked towards his face. Something felt off about it. I was sure it wasn’t just something caused by the dull, orange light from the flames, either. It was almost… uncanny. No matter how hard I stared at him, I couldn’t quite make out the shape of his face.

I dismissed the peculiarity. It was probably just my hunger getting to me.

With great effort, I dragged the body away from the conflict into the shadows of a nearby building.

I was fortunate that no blood smeared itself onto the ground.

“There’s a shard of broken glass to your right if you’re here to finish the job,” the boy coughed out.

I stiffened and looked back to the conflict. If it weren’t for the clashing of blades, then I was sure he would have been heard.

“Quiet,” I hissed, “they’re still here. Easier to just let you bleed out if you’re going to make noise.”

He let out a hacking laugh.

“You’re not with us. Decided to die along with everybody else?”

“I’m getting you out of here.”

He struggled to his feet. I offered him my shoulder to lean on. His weight almost sent me tumbling to the ground.

“There’s so little meat on your bones that not even an orc would eat you,” he grunted out.

“I’d give them a bad stomach ache as I went down,” I retorted. “What can I do? There’s a place nearby that’s safe to stay, but I don’t have much else to offer.”

“Get me further away, then help me with my wounds.”

“You want me to cut you up? That’s about all I’m good for.”

“I’ll walk you through it.”

“Good. I’d probably kill you otherwise. What’s your name?”

“It’s Sullivan. Yours?”

“Catherine, but call me Cat.”

“Right, Cat, let’s go.”

The two of us moved from shadow to shadow. The sounds of fighting became muted as we drew further away. Sullivan kept a hand pressed to his wounds as he walked. My breathing became heavy, ragged. I was not used to holding up so much weight.

At last, we came to a stop at the windmill.

Sullivan walked me through tearing up the less filthy parts of my own orphanage clothes and using them to stop the blood.

“From one burned down building to another. You sure take me to the nicest places,” he commented from his seat among the sacks.

“Want me to set it on fire again to improve the mood?” I answered glibly from beside him.

“Scorched and dusty is fine,” he replied hastily.

His eyes settled on my map.

“What happened to you?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about this, but the mission’s gone to shit, and I’d be dead without you anyhow. There’s a new rebellion brewing in Callow,” his voice perked up. “One of our scouts brought information about a warehouse used to store Legion weapons.”

“And you walked straight into the jaws of a trap.”

“We think someone tipped off the Legions,” a touch of heat entered Sullivan’s voice, “the place was empty and troops were waiting for us when we arrived. They forced most of us into the building, then set it on fire.”

“You’re spry for someone who should be a corpse.”

“I saw what we were up against. Decided it was better to try to live and take back word to the rebellion.”

This was it. This was my chance to join up. I just needed to convince him to allow me to follow.

“So you played dead.”

“Exactly. I was one of the first struck down. It’s smarter. This way we can plan better next time.”

“You’re returning to the rebel leaders?”

“Soon as I can,” his voice lowered. I leaned closer to hear what he said. “Can I trust you not to betray me?”

“Look at me,” I gestured to my hollowed out chest, “It was easier to stab you than carry you here. Think I’m any happier about the state of Callow than you?”

“Point,” his lips twitched upwards.

“Can I come with you when you leave?”

He looked me up and down.

“You look like a strong wind would blow you over.”

“Who was it that carried you all the way here?”

“You’re also no older than ten.”

“I’m twelve,” I glared at Sullivan.

“Still too young to pick up a sword.

“Tell me with a straight face that war cares about how old I am, and then I’ll stay out of it.”

“War cares about how old you are,” he replied with a straight face.

I punched him on the shoulder, then winced. It felt like punching a boulder.

“You know what I meant.”

“Best not to get caught up in the rebellion while you still have your life ahead of you.”

“I’m caught up anyway.”

Sullivan shook his head.

“Take another look at me,” I pressed.

“Life can always get worse, Cat.”

“Better to die with a sword in my hand than with an empty belly.”

“It looks like you’re planning to do both.”

“I’ll follow you,” I scowled at him. “Doesn’t matter where you’re heading. Even if it kills me.”

“Fine, Cat,” he raised a hand and ran it through his short, black hair. “I’ll take you with me when I leave.”

He paused.

“They won’t even turn you down.”

The last words were said under his breath, whispered as if they weren’t meant for me.

Conversation ended.

I relaxed and closed my eyes with a smile.

Despite how weary I felt, the day had been a good one. I’d found someone who could take me to join the rebellion. Somebody who was already a member. Somebody that I could count on not to betray me to the Calamities.

Both of us drifted off to sleep not long after.

We both slept like the dead.

The following day dawned. We departed from the windmill. He guided the way through the nest of broken buildings towards the rebel base deeper in the city.

My feet ached, and my stomach growled, but I didn’t care.

One laboured breath at a time, Callow’s freedom drew closer.