Elicerent

VIII.

I was startled awake with a growl, "Get up."

I squinted through the light that met the shadow cast by the building, to see a tall, wide man standing over me. Disorientated, I scrambled to my feet, looking up to meet the gaze of the over-weight man. Thankfully, not a mercenary. Outstretching his arm, he grabbed me by the collar, forcing the cloth tighter and tighter. He leant in close, "What's your purpose?"

He was so close that I could smell the ale on his breath. I remained silent as his grip tightened further. He turned, yelling down the alley to no one that I could see.

"I caught a deserter!"

He turned back to face me, and his left eye was greeted with the small, concealed knife from my hair. He abruptly loosened his grip, howling as he clutched his face. I dropped and ran down the alley, turning only long enough to see him cursing as blood escaped through his fingers, like tributaries cutting through earth. I zig-zagged in and out of the alleyways, trying to put as much distance between me and the inn. Every sudden yell spurred me on, paranoid I was being chased. I stopped only when my lungs stung.