Finally, he rose to his feet unsteadily, using a hand to brace himself against the wall. Moving back towards the street, he spotted a puddle of water. As he passed, his eyes were drawn to it, and he saw his reflection, dried blood caked everywhere. Dropping to his knees, he splashed his face, doing his best to wipe away the gore.

Somewhat refreshed, Athgar stood back up. Expecting dizziness, he was pleasantly surprised to find the alleyway remained stationary, though his head still throbbed. Making his way out to the street, he looked about, trying to decide on a course of action.

Knowing that the market was nearby, he began retracing his steps of the day before. Perhaps, he thought, he might be able to sell his axe, for he had little use of it, and his stomach would need some encouragement if he were to persist in his search for the scarred rider.

A young woman walked by him, her dress the colour of the morning sky. Having never seen such clothing before, he watched in interest as she turned down an alleyway. This, in itself, was not so strange, but a moment later, a man pushed past him, running after her.

"She's down this way," the stranger yelled, "cut her off!"

"I've got her," called another, deeper voice from farther up the street. Athgar was instantly struck by the idea that someone was hunting this woman. His mind raced, and then he remembered how he was not able to help his sister in her time of need.

'Not again!' he thought. He pulled his axe and charged into the alleyway in hot pursuit of the stranger.

The City

Autumn 1103 SR

Natalia stepped from the carriage, only to have her feet sink into the mud. She glanced down at the thick brown muck as it covered her toes, then lifted her foot, flinging the mud loose as best she could. In answer, her shoe, which admittedly was ill-suited to this type of terrain, flew across the intervening distance, to land in a puddle that lay more than an arm's length away.

She sighed in resignation. The trip from Karslev had been long and tedious, with constant changing of carriages to avoid being followed. Now, weeks later and hundreds of miles from her start, she finally felt a modicum of safety, only to be met with a torrential rainstorm that had flooded the roads.

Pondering her situation for but a moment, she decided there was little she could do but stand, and so she put her bare foot down, feeling the mud squish between her toes. The fugitive shoe lay just beyond her reach, taunting her with its delicate blue laces. In a thrice, she had made up her mind and leaned against the carriage, removing her other shoe. Now completely bare of foot, she tenderly crossed the distance, holding up her dress as the muck clung to her feet.