Chapter 128 - A Place We Don’t Fit

Morning hung heavy in the town, clouds low and heavy, pushing in, heavy with the promise of rain. The air clung to the streets, wet stone smell and the acrid bite of burned wood and the scent of fresh bread.

Taryn should have felt at ease.

They had eaten already—hard rolls, fresh from the baker's cart, still warm in the center. No one had questioned them when they stepped up to pay. No one had watched them too closely. No one had even glanced twice in their direction.

And that was the problem.

It was too normal. Too safe.

She had eaten the whole meal sitting back to the wall, watching the progress of each person who went by. She had sat still, listened to the clomp of boots on cobblestones, the kind of noise that presaged trouble approaching.

But nothing had happened.

The baker had pocketed his coin. A man in a blue coat had argued about the price of eggs. A woman had passed by, humming under her breath.

And still, nothing.