He darted back inside the cover of the building as a Phantom made a low pass overhead, blocking the rain for a moment as it hovered directly above him... the bright circle that its searchlight cast on the wet street very nearly catching him. Perhaps it would be wiser to avoid open ground, for the time being. He should try to make his way along the route that he had plotted through the buildings where possible. He turned, and headed inside, pausing to check his map for a moment. He could make his. From the porch of her family manse she could watch him clean his curved blade from the blood of a dozen or more servants that died to protect her. Once it was shining bright, he sheathed the sword and slipped it back into the belt around his waist. Then his glance rose to meet hers. His brown hair hung heavy from rain and sweat and blood, clutching around his scarred face. Black eyes, dark as the night with a glimmer of stars peered at her, his prize.She sat unmoved on the wooden floor, her. More

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