They locked hands. Together they ran, Stasia guiding them while tracking their locations in her mind. Thank all the gods for her midnight trips to Clarissa’s home. Doing so had taught her all the various alleyways and street corners. Despite their years safely together, she had not once forgotten this was a possibility. Since she was twelve years old, her entire life had been a war against the empire. One did not simply forget, and so she’d planned her potential escape from a sweep. The soldiers would guard all major crossroads, and they’d form a perimeter to box in the entire district, but there were a few thin alleyways connecting it to the next. They’d be guarded, of course, but nothing like the main streets. Reinforcements would come in time, which was why they had to outrun the wind.

A left here. Right there. Wending between homes, through alleyways, and only once dipping into the main street. Her grip on Clarissa’s hand tightened, and when she started to fall behind, Stasia pulled her along. They couldn’t linger, not if they were to escape. Their best hope was amid the initial chaos. Every which way, they heard shouts of soldiers, crying children, and frightened families herded out to the street for questioning.

Another turn. The lone major intersection was ahead of her, and three soldiers rushed toward them while shouting for reinforcements. Stasia let go of Clarissa’s hand and charged. Savagery was her finest weapon. Her foes saw her muscles, her face hidden behind a roaring skull, and her gore-soaked ax, and suddenly halted their chase. Instead they lifted their shields and braced for her assault. The hesitation amused her, and it was while sporting a grin she whirled into the three of them.

Her first hit dented the shield and sent her foe staggering. The opening wasn’t much, just a half step backward, but it was enough for her to shift sideways and slide across its surface on her back while positioning the length of her ax shaft to block a sword swing. Momentum carried her past the three, and they frantically spun to face her. Armored and wielding long swords and heavy shields, they moved so clumsily and slow when matched against her rage. Her left heel dug into the ground, granting power to her swing as her ax buried into the nearest soldier’s neck. Warm blood splashed across her in a wild spray.