The townsfolk hurried them through the muddy streets while shouting for space and light. Lanterns swung wildly in the wind to pierce the thick fog, throwing trembling shadows across the slick cobblestones.
They were led into a nearby building which was an old tavern by the looks of it. Its door slammed shut the moment the last one of them entered.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke from the hearth and the smell of damp clothes. A few townsfolk helped Ryn onto a long wooden bench near the fire.
His face was pale, his arm trembling as blood soaked through the torn leather sleeve.
"Hold still," said a woman with a thick shawl around her shoulders. She grabbed a cloth and pressed it against the wound.
Ryn winced and biting back a curse.
Elrin threw her hood back. Her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks.
"You should've opened the gate sooner!" she snapped. Her voice was sharp with fatigue and anger. "We were surrounded out there! He nearly lost his arm!"
