D007

Two

"Shit"

Jordan fled down the alleyway and into the mess of sheets and stalls that made up the marketplace. Closely behind him was an Official that did not promise anything good. He dodged past a group of women carrying large baskets of assorted fruits. They yelled at him to be careful and to slow down but the young man was already half way down the street. He whipped his head back saw that the stranger was soon catching up to him, adrenaline surged through his veins.

Around the corner was a deeper, more narrow street of stalls. Surely he could lose the Official in the chaos. As he booked down the pathway bumping into several annoyed bystanders, his ankle roughly wrapped around a guide rope. He fell to the ground with a hard thud and slid across the dirty market floor. His knees scraped against the gravel and ripped a big hole in his jeans, exposing speckles of blood.

"Fuck" he groaned and scrambled to his feet, a stinging sensation grew where his body hit the ground. People had surrounded him, offering to help and looking down at him with curious eyes. Panic started to set in when he realised that the Official would notice the crowd and find him. Jordan roughly pushed through the crowd, ignoring the assistance of a concerned gypsie. He almost tripped over his own feet in an uncoordinated attempt at running.

"Stop!" An unfamiliar voice called out from deep in the sea of people. This only further motivated him to get the fuck out of there. Down the road was a small row of cottages, built into the city walls, resting in the shadows. If he could make it into the alleyway, he could find a place to hide for the night.

Jordan swerved clumsily around a stack of shipping containers and passed a small stray dog that was attempting to steal a piece of bone from a butcher's stall. He dodged another man pushing a large trolley carrying many different tanks full of colourful fish. The man had a large white beard that was braided towards the end, he whistled gently before stopping to shout at people to clear the way.

To his right was a stall full of different healing crystals and dream catchers that hung from the ceilings. They looked like caught bugs in the cobweb like powerlines that strung from building to building just above him. His pace slowed as the adrenaline began to fade away. Jordan leaned to the side, hidden between two stores. Hard, sharp inhales filled his lungs as he caught his breath. The ravaging hunger in his gut didn't help.

He turned his head back before scanning the crowd for the too familiar bald man. The Official was no where to be seen but he couldn't let his guard down. He pulled up the hood of his jacket, partially concealing his identity.

Another rough hand rested on his shoulder and his stomach sunk.

"Boy, why are you running?" A feminine voice whispered from his side. Cautiously, he turned, fearing for the worst. At least he wasn't dying by the hands of a dirty Official.

The stranger came into view, pulling back her dark cloak. She glared into his soul with dark, green eyes. The correct term would be eye. The woman's left eye was shielded by an intricate leather patch. Her face was solemn and hard, she looked like she had been through hell and back. Tough, like a warrior. Perhaps he would find out if she didn't kill him on the spot. But she didn't. Instead, she stared him hard in the eyes.

"Do you not speak Zyrion, boy?" She retracted her hand and folded them. Her accent sounded different, she wasn't from Zyro.

"Uh. Yes...I do" Words stumbled out like vomit, a mess of letters and sounds. He tried to back away into the street but froze when he saw the familiar uniform of the Official. The Official pushed through the crowd roughly. The woman stepped in front of Jordan, fanning out her cloak. She saw what him too.

The Official passed her, watching her with dark eyes for a brief moment. She stared back with her same, cold glare. Jordan was frozen and as still as a rock. The Official gave her a nod before continuing down the road. She whipped her cloak back and pushed Jordan away from her.