First message
I was three streets from a clean escape. Purse in my pocket. Fog thick as stew.
Then I heard the screaming.
I turned the corner. And stopped.
Five of them. Standing in the middle of a cobblestone intersection like they had never seen buildings before.
The northern brat was spinning in circles. "IT MOVES. THE SIGN MOVES."
The jungle one was eating raw fish from a cart. A cat hissed. He hissed back. The romantic one was apologizing to a lamppost. The dark one just stood there. Mouth open. I had never seen his mouth open.You at least had the decency to look embarrassed. A woman dropped her apples. The brat scrambled to pick them up. Ate one. Core and all. She screamed.
Guards appeared at the far end of the street.
"All of you," I hissed. "Alley. Now. "
The brat looked at me. "Who's the sewer horse?"
"I am the sewer horse who is about to let you get arrested. Move."
The dark one vanished into the shadows first. Smart. You followed. The romantic one kept apologizing. The jungle one sniffed my wrapped hooves and said, "They look like little presents," before bounding past.
The brat lingered at the alley mouth, staring at the lights.
"It's so loud," he said.
I softened. Just a crack. "It never stops. Now move, country boy. I'll get you somewhere safe."
Stupid, I thought, following them into the dark.
But I followed anyway.