Lincs
Writer of Things
Foster
He blinked, realizing he'd spent far too much time watching things go down outside of the pub. Most of the offending patrons had been hauled off already, and now guards scurried about the place like ants over spilled sugar.
"Well... usually my ideas go over better than that. Good thing we didn't actually go inside, or you'd have been spotted for sure."
Distantly he realized that the... that his mule had wandered off once again. Oh well. It'll find me later, I'm sure. With a shake of his head, Foster started to turn back to face Astrid once more. A fleeting blur of color caught his eye. What? He whirled back around towards the pub. There, in the adjoining alleyway, huddled a small creature. Almost like a... predatory chicken? Nothing that the man had ever seen in his travels, that's for sure. Suddenly, it came back to him. The guards had loaded several of the things onto a cart earlier when the rest of the prisoners were rounded up. This one, it appears, had escaped notice. For now. His instincts urged him forward... something was up.
"Stay here for a second," he said to the air, hoping Astrid was still listening, "I'm going to check something out." He started off across the square towards the pub.
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FireMaiden