Belated Celta Thursday, Trimmed Scene from Heart Fate
Stomping of feet, crunching of branches, ahead of Lahsin.
She scuttled, then stopped at the sound of voices, put her hand over her mouth to quiet her ragged breathing. "–That pidyn-suckin' fliggerin' sonofa-blerk Winterberry. I wish that grychomp had eaten his bare ass. Swaggerin' inta our gatehouse an' tellin' us to walk – walk! – to Northgate lookin' for some stup of a lil' girl who got herself lost. I was just ready to sink my teeth into a cinnamon glazed doughround. Ya see how Winterberry looked down that arrogant nose at us?"
"Sloegin, I thought he said 'patrol.' Patrol between here and Northgate."
Lahsin was caught in an awkward crouch. The door in the wall was just two meters from her. She could see it now, a small, square door. If only she was there! Branches had formed a thicket around the door, but byeond were much thinner. She could see the colors of the Eastgate guardsmen's uniforms. If she could see them, they could see her . . . .