Saving Zareth

"Damn it! Where the fuck did he run off to?" Caspian muttered.

His eyes scanned the small room, searching for any clue Zareth might have left behind.

The absence of his friend hit him harder than he expected.

The neatly folded blanket in the corner and the half-eaten piece of bread on the counter only amplified his growing sense of urgency.

He rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply, before his frustration gave way to resolve.

"I can't just sit here," he muttered to himself, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the room.

The city streets were eerily quiet in the early dawn light, the occasional distant chatter of birds setting up for the day fading into the background as Caspian broke into a jog.

His mind raced as he thought of where Zareth might have gone.

"Think, Ed, think," he murmured to himself.

"Where would someone like him go? He's hiding, but not from just anyone—he's hiding from pros who might recognize him."