A glimpse

“What is your name, girl?”

“Daelia Romany.” She jumped aside as a horse-drawn cart almost ran her over. The wheels hit a deep puddle as it passed, splashing mud up the front of her clothes and over the cloak she carried over one arm.

“Don’t fear,” Callian remarked as she tried in vain to brush the sludge off her tunic, “A little mud cannot hurt them anymore.”

She determined to watch her surroundings more carefully; one could be killed by drivers like that one. Keeping one eye on Callian as not to get separated, she scanned the area around her.
Suddenly, through a brief break in the people moving swiftly through the market, she caught sight of a familiar face. A face she would have recognized anywhere.

“Wren!”

*****
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