Meticulously had she navigated the streets, ensuring never to move if there appeared anyone in the vicinity who might test their luck, or around whom she might feel attention drawn to her attire.
And what an ordeal it was; within the past quarter-hour, sheâd managed only two streets, darting from hiding spot to hiding spot to avoid being sighted by anyone, if it could be helped. As such, her guard was high, nerves frayed, and dreading any ordinary citizen or subject far more than the heartbreak creatures skulking about.
For nearly five additional minutes had she taken refuge in the snug space between the low wall separating the narrow pathway between buildings from the car park and a postbox.
Engrossed as she was about checking the street down which she had skirted that sheâd neglected the fact she had been, in fact, standing at the end of a narrow walkway, given a hint only by the sound of movement behind her.
Irrational movement was hardly her style; she was typically so collected. So even she was surprised by the yell that erupted from her throat when spinning around to face the entity looming, wand raised and ready to strike.
