The moment she was out of sight of the crowds, the polite grocery-store owner vanished entirely.
Heena broke into a dead sprint. Her heavy black cloak billowed behind her like bat wings as she navigated the claustrophobic alley, her boots kicking up dirt and discarded vegetable leaves. The carriage was moving fast toward the upper rings, and if she stayed on the ground level, she would lose it in the maze of the market district within minutes.
She needed the high ground.
Ignoring the sharp, agonizing protest of the healing scabs on her back, Heena locked her eyes on a stack of empty wooden crates piled against a stone wall. She didn't even slow her pace.
