“I am the not-so-honourable Brenner, and if there is a plague, you are guaranteed to die.”
He ripped away to cloth and threw it into the fire, which responded with a loud snap in thanks.
“Right now, your safest bet would be to stay out of sight and probably get that wound fixed up,”
He brushed a hand through his curls, pursing his lips,
“I have a medical kit in my shack down south, but it’s a days journey on foot. No medic’s going to see you if there is a plague.”
Sighing again, he turned around and pushed back the curtain revealing the outside of his stand. Everything was in place, fortunately. Brenner paused for a moment, then the objects, tables, poles and cloth started to shrink quickly in size, one by one. They all flew into the crate that had held Mirigold in flight and sealed it neatly. Now all tat was left was the back, a silver tent looking obnoxiously out of place in the alley it was placed.
He turned 45 degrees back inside to the girl, casting a silhouette of his profile across the dirt floorand asked her a question,
“Why did you take the Man’s pendant, Mirigold?”
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