Redrick Gleamalong hurried through the woods, hoping that he wasn't being followed. He'd covered his tracks as best he could, but there was only so much he could do. Xandria, protect your servant. Preserve me to do your good work. Keep me safe from your enemies.
There: a break in trees ahead. His steps slowed for a moment, then he picked up his pace again. The squirrel chittered from its place in the thrown-back hood of his cloak: Stop? Sleep? Chase around later?
He chittered back: I know. We're almost there, I hope.
Acorn huffed, then wriggled out of the hood and climbed onto his shoulder. Hide in a tree, it suggested.
They climb, Redrick answered, and Acorn shivered at the prospect of arboreal predators. The squirrel stayed quiet, looking around warily as Redrick emerged from the break and started out into the knee-high grasses. He touched the hidden slit in his belt one more time, making sure the talisman was still in its place.
Then he raised his eyes, squinting against the sudden sun, and took a long look around. There was a graveled road ahead of him, blessedly empty of traffic, leading from the outskirts of a town to the heavy wooden ramp that led up to the airdock. And there, tied off to the tower, was an airship.
Salvation. He drew a deep breath. Thank you, blessed Xandria.
He started for the ramp.
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