Time Of Traitors

Whispers and gnashings immediately returned, something heavy and clawed began to stir and jump around the corners. Cres picked up a kerosene stove from the table in the hope of dispersing the villains in their holes, or at least to understand who he would face. Only puppet eyes still protruded from the gloom, as if stars were winking from the bottom of a well.Cursing all the Khamers and their mothers, Kres found with difficulty the ajar door hidden behind the desk. Behind it, a low corridor, more reminiscent of an earthen hole, stretched like a snake. At the end, there was a tiny strip of light on the floor. Closing the door tightly behind him, Cres walked straight towards it. A frightening rattle breathed into the back of the head, which did not even think to calm down. The floor suddenly wobbled like the deck of a ship, nearly knocking Cres off his feet. The boards creaked under heels, pressed in and cracked, clinging to the sole with nails. The dark tunnel stubbornly did not want

For some time the Prisoner could not recover his breath from fear, while his weakening heart trembled in his ears, and his nerves cracked and torn like rigging aboard a ship dying in a storm. He got up on shaky legs, but could not stand it and sat down on a straw bed, the only object in the cell besides the stinking pot in the corner. The prisoner tried to detach himself from the world around him so that these frightening sounds would leave him alone. But with each new step of the shod boot, the frail body on the floor was shaken by a new wave of panic fever, thoughts jumped more and more frantically - from the past to the future and back, the mind refused to admit that its turn had come. The prisoner tried with all his strength to drive reality as deep as possible inside, but it pressed with a vengeance.The prisoner crawled away from the door, dissolved in darkness, pressed his cheek against the cold stone. Even though the walls are lined with scratched cobblestones, behind them one

Enough of these games, dear. Your cat is tired.There was nothing he could do now, he had to move on if he did not want to wander around this place in the dark. Then Cres quickly gathered the remaining things and threw a bag over himself. He dragged the saddle into the house and plugged it deeper from prying eyes. The thing is expensive, but it was impossible to carry the girl and carry this thing with you.With great difficulty, he managed to put the girl on his back and rise, holding her by the calves - Ada did not even flinch. It weighed a little more than the saddle left behind - his eternal thin man on water and bread was losing weight very much every day, and the road promised nothing but sweat and tears. A couple more careful steps and he was more or less used to the new burden. It seems to work, if only the boots would not fall off her thin ankles and then they would not have to come back for them.They went deep into the unknown, and the days were intensely followed by days.

They were alone, far from Ada, and that was the most important thing. Cres threw back his head - hooked branches scratched the sky. The tree was tall, climbing it would not be difficult for a stubborn boy who just wants to survive.Bosorka, crouching with her stomach to the ground and raising her ass like a cat, slowly approached - she hoped to finish him off with one movement, and then play enough.He jumped, completely forgetting how seriously injured he was, and clenched his fingers on the first branch. His feet slid over the bark, but he held on, hauling himself up and clutching at another branch, gritting his teeth in pain. Another impossible move, and the yellow leaves covered him completely. Bosorka, either from hatred, or from the anticipation of an imminent feast, tore his throat for the whole district, cutting circles around the trunk. The beast was preparing to release his guts, and he would not have done anything to stop her claws, but the dirty nature still took its toll.

- Ai! Enough! Or I'll roast you!It was hard to tell from her contented appearance that the threat had tempered her ardor, but the bird was done with the "greetings". Sareth, scratching the stung place, cracked his spruce branches and sank into his seat.- Did you find it? He raised an eyebrow as he sheathed his blade. Alas, not everything in this life can be solved with a swing.The raven grunted in response, poked its feathered beak like it was in a pocket, and tossed a small black leather-bound notebook into Sareth's lap. He croaked again for warning and jabbed his beak at the cover - extremely persistently.“I know, I know, don’t croak…” Sareth muttered, turning the yellowish pages. The bird stared at him with its bright topaz eyes as the nitsiri entered phrase after phrase into his notebook.Decided to start as friendly as possible:Good evening. In the woods. Chimera is close. How is the weather?The answer was not long in coming:The clouds are gathering, - a threateningly dark