It was a long trip to Lothering.

They may have been blessed with a clear sky, but the physical and emotional strain from their indoctrination had them dragging their feet down the Imperial Highway. Nora could feel her skin blister in her cold, wet shoes, and she regretted not following Carrow's decision to peel them off and go barefoot. A few stops were made to rest and relax, but there was no sleep to be had. There was a strange sort of energy in them, an odd endurance that demanded they be pushed to their limits. Push on they did, but by the time the sun's rays beamed over the horizon, their pace had slowed to little more than a crawl.

Nora slapped her cheeks a few times, trying to rouse herself, but it didn't do much of anything. Her damp clothes and the chilling winds had already numbed most of her skin. She sighed and did her best to rub the fatigue out of her bloodshot eyes. Peering out over the land, she could finally see fields of farm crops and several livestock animals grazing. There weren't many houses, but the ones that she saw all looked to have the same materials in their construction. Even the windmills were a little more clustered and uniform. Nora turned back to the road, and stopped once she realized it wasn't just the highway anymore. Another road ran perpendicular to what they were on, spanning east to west. She turned to Carrow and smiled. "It's the crossing... We're almost there."

She couldn't, and wouldn't, deny that the highway was beautiful. It was grand and spectacular, and everything else, just like in her books. But the closer they neared Lothering, the more wreckage they encountered. Parts of the marble arches had completely collapsed, and there were sections of the bridge that just didn't exist. A loud, pained scream came from behind her. Nora whirled around, seeing the elf try to balance himself on one foot while trying to pick a sharp piece of stone out of the other. After many, many obscenities and lots of hopping around, he managed, throwing it down to shatter on impact.

"...Just a little longer." Nora tried to encourage him. This road had to still be in use, right? Nora could have sworn the account she read was current. It was a shame to let one of Thedas' wonders fall victim to the tests of time, but perhaps restoration and upkeep had to take a backseat when that time was filled with war.

And the possibility of a Blight. Just the thought of what one Darkspawn could do sickened her. Theleon's corpse was still in that cave, no doubt bled-out and beginning to rot. It wasn't something she wanted to think about, but the scene had been burned into the back of her mind. The fate of the Grey Warden, what she and Carrow had endured, and those awful, awful sounds...

The screeches and screams were horrid, but the song that accompanied her descent could have driven her to insanity. It wriggled its way into her ear each time she tried to put it out of her mind, rising and falling, demanding that she listen. Still, she couldn't quite recall the more minute details of what she first heard. Nora could still remember the voices and the chorus, but the more time had passed, the more she became displaced from its intricacies. The rhythms slowed and the harmonizing growls and shrieks changed their tune. Every time it echoed in her mind, something was different.

Out of the full orchestra of madness, only a couple of instruments played. Crying out maliciously, their horns raised to the sky. Laughing. Creeping up, and ready to strike.

Nora stopped dead in her tracks, raising her head as the melody got louder, and louder. It was here. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed onto Carrow's shoulder. He tried to shrug her off, but her palm was like a vice, holding onto him for fear of falling once more. "What are you doing?" He tore away with a violent gesture. Nora stared straight ahead, raising only one finger to point towards the distance. The elf followed her line of direction, putting up a hand to block the sun out of his eyes.

They could both hear manic shouting, and quietly rushed down the road to assess the situation. Neither of them expected to see two dwarves cowering at the edge of the road, forced back by a small group of Darkspawn. "Away with you, foul creatures!" One had the bravery, or maybe reached a certain point of desperation, to stand up to these fiends, but the only weapon he swung about was a splintered piece of wood. "Get back, Sandal, don't let them touch you! Someone help us!"

Carrow placed a finger to his lips and crouched behind a collection of rubble. To Nora's disbelief, he clearly had no intention to fight this mob. She bit her lower lip, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She couldn't let this happen, not to people who didn't even have the means to defend themselves. It wasn't right. "Hey!" Nora cried out, her voice hoarse and piercing.

Her call for attention worked. The Darkspawn that crowded the highway turned to them. "You little idiot." Carrow's voice was venomous. The elf had already brandished his dagger to defend himself, the metal blade slightly foggy and chilled from his magics. There were five, perhaps six of them, though they weren't like the one that ambushed them in the cave. These were armored, and carrying barbaric weapons. They were clearly soldiers.

Nora's outburst especially caught the attention of one that was suited in much better armor than its lessers. Its gaze found hers, the vile, milky whites bearing into her soul, and she swore she could hear it laugh. Her heart raced as the mob of Darkspawn rushed towards them, but she held steady. She wasn't going to lie down helplessly like before. She might not have had the same strengths as her peer, nor the same tenacity, but as soon as that armored monstrosity set its eyes on her, her survival and magical instincts kicked in.

Nora clenched her fists, curling her fingers and focusing intently on the Darkspawn. With every ounce of concentration she had, she set her focus on the spaces around them. The little pockets began to curdle, seething with the taint. She pushed them to the forefront of her mind, disregarding her other senses, and soon she could see those bits of energies form shapes and move in patterns.

Her eyes were now primed to pick up her own energies, unstable but strong. She willed for her spirit to be greater than the foes she faced, for her mental fortitude to overcome their chaotic minds, and it was done. A burst of energy erupted from her core, seeking to disrupt her targets. At once, the Darkspawn staggered. The smaller ones grabbed their heads with mutated claws, and they halted. They bumbled about, stumbling over their own feet and trying to shake off the pulse that wracked them to their very foundation. Nora looked down at Carrow and spat. "Now would be a good time to do something!"

Carrow rolled his eyes and let out a low, frustrated groan. His hand was forced, it seemed. The elf ran out from his cover towards the monsters, and a blinding display of lightning burst from his palms. The Darkspawn began to convulse, air permeated with the stench of cooked flesh, and one by one they began to drop to the floor. His palms began to sting, and his muscles spasmed slightly, signaling his limit. The elven mage lowered his hands from the onslaught, seeing that only one remained standing. Carrow gripped the dagger tightly, reared back, and thrust it into the vanguard's left eye. It garbled out a pained howl, and collapsed to the ground.

And just like that, it was over.

Nora sighed, brushing back her hair and pausing for a moment to rest. It took more out of her than it should have. She could recite by memory spiritual manipulations that were tiers above what she just performed, but she wasn't familiar with how her body would react to it. Her limits were still being discovered. The possible repercussions weren't something she wanted to dwell on, and she turned her eyes to the stone walkway, pausing at a very gruesome sight.

She had almost missed it among the chaos. A young woman laid dead on the stone, wearing the same robes as the mages of the Circle. Nora didn't recognize her personally, but the crests and style of the garment were unmistakable. She bent down, and picked up her hand, trying to see if this was another Darkspawn casualty. This woman's body hadn't grown cold, yet... It probably hadn't even been an hour since she was killed. Her hands and her wrists were riddled with pock marks and scars. Little bumps had formed around the main concentration of veins, and her fingertips were mottled and sponge-like. They were far paler than her face and neck, as though the blood had been drained out of them. Yet, the warmth that lingered...

She let go, and small droplets of warm, thick blood smeared onto her hand. Nora wiped them away quickly, sighing and shaking her head. It was... Disappointing to see someone like this in such a state.

Nora removed herself from those thoughts and remembered the reason she had intervened to begin with. She rose quickly and ran to the dwarves, both of them still in shock and checking to make sure all of their limbs were still intact.

"Are you alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

A pair of bewildered, light brown eyes stared back at her. "No, no, we're alright..." But clearly rattled. He ran a hand down the back of his head, and let out a deep exhale. "Mighty timely arrival you had, there..." The other dwarf, considerably younger, ran to him. He kept his head down and bowed, wrapping his arms around the man's waist and hugging on tightly. "Easy, son, it's alright. Those beasties are dead and gone... Nothing to be scared of, now."

A part of her warmed considerably at seeing the two of them, and she smiled. Nora looked over at Carrow, who had no interest in this, of course. He had already started to walk down to the farmland. Part of her wondered if she should just let him go off, but with the possible dangers of more Darkspawn on the road, she thought it best to catch up. "...I'm glad you're both alright. Take care."

"Ah, wait just a moment." The older of the two called out to her. "I don't know you, stranger, but you saved me and my boy's life. I wouldn't feel right if you went unrewarded for your bravery."

A reward? He walked around the wreckage of his cart, and sifted through some of the more secure chests tied up in the back. When he came back around, he was holding a long, satin-wrapped staff. "You're a mage, aren't you? I don't know much about spell casting or the arcane, but every time I bring my cart up north this staff always gets plenty of attention... By collectors and lyrium users alike. Yes, plenty of attention, but no coin. I've no doubt it will be far more valuable to you than it could ever be to me."

He pulled back the fabric, and Nora's eyes went wide. Someone had taken great artistic liberties with this stave. It was a cherry-colored wood, soft and smooth, with engravings of roses carved into the tops and bottoms. Nora took up his offering gingerly. It was far lighter than she had anticipated, and easy to handle. The middle was sanded down further, silky to the touch, yet secure enough for someone to hold onto without it slipping from their fingers. She turned it over, checking it from all angles. There didn't seem to be any sort of embedded magics or enchantments attached to it, but perhaps that could be changed. It was no simple branch, that was certain. "It's beautiful... But it looks so expensive. Are you sure you just want to give it to me?"

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, chuckling. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let a lovely lady such as yourself walk the lands unarmed... And during a Blight, no less. Please, take it as a sign of my gratitude. I'd offer you some gold, but... I've a bit of a wagon to repair, after all." Indeed. There was barely anything left intact. The dwarf shook his head, disappointed but happy to still have a head at all. "...Well. The name is Bodahn Feddic, should our paths ever cross again. And if they do, believe me, I'll remember what you've done for us."

Her face lit up. "I love it. Thank you very, very much."

"You're welcome. Say goodbye to the nice lady, my boy."

Bright, blue eyes as clear as spring waters searched her features. She'd never seen eyes that were so piercing. The dwarven boy gave her a shy, childish smile. "Goodbye, nice lady."

Nora nodded, most of her attention still on the staff. She began to descend the walkway, and looked down at Carrow. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his lips. ...As she had come to expect, honestly. "He wanted to give us a reward... Do you want to look at it?" She hated the thought of him snatching that stave from her. He had done most of the dirty work, however, so she supposed it was only fair for him to at least see it.

He didn't seem to be interested. He just stared at her, before taking in a slight breath. "Are you clairvoyant?"

Nora blinked a couple of times. "...What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

What a remarkably inane question. Although, to be fair... And Nora was finding herself to be fair quite often, as of late... She wasn't as well-known as he was. She tried to answer calmly, but her irritation was clear in her tone. "No... My primary studies are in the spirit. It's not synonymous with the stereotype of clairvoyance."

Carrow shook his head. "So, then, what? Can you read minds?"

Was this a joke? Surely he had to be feigning ignorance. But the longer she stared at him, the more that look on his face told her that he was, indeed, very serious. She folded her arms. "...No. No, I do not have the ability to read minds. Have you had no lessons in energy outside of primal manipulation?"

He shrugged, and she could see his suspicion. "I understand the things I can see. And you did something that I couldn't see... Something to their heads. Their brains. What else can you do, then?"

This was just silly. What he was suggesting... Rooting into someone's thoughts... That was more akin to demons and damnable blood magic than anything the Circle had taught. Never mind that, the magic Carrow specialized in involved the same basic principle as hers. Energy. The schools of spirit and primal magic were meant to balance each other out, and even if a mage only pursued one of them it was a requirement to have some understanding of its opposite. They were two sides to the same coin... How could he ask such ridiculous questions?

Nora could expect such a thing from some of the Chantry initiates, or perhaps a very young child, but she didn't think another mage would ever entertain the idea. She stared him down, firm to her words. "I don't bend spoons, or read minds, or anything like that. That's not what studying the spirit is about."

Carrow arched one of his thin, pointed eyebrows. "Is that so?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a rumbling in her stomach. Nora shook her head and turned away from him. "Let's just get something to eat." Another growl, this one louder and longer, came from Carrow's midsection.

At least they were on the same page this time.

There was a strange heaviness hanging over the city. Nora had felt it before, when apprentices begged for their Harrowings, and when elderly mages who never spent a moment outside the tower were coming to the end of their days. It was desperation, and it ran thick all throughout Lothering. Beggars didn't even bother to hold out their palms, caretakers turned their backs towards near-death civilians to treat wounded soldiers, men and women stared off into the distance, doing nothing to comfort their sobbing children. The burdens they had to bear weighed so heavily on their backs that their heads were forced down, eyes stuck on the ground beneath their feet. Was this because of the war?

Nora and Carrow pushed past the languid civilians, following a warm, savory smell and the promise of food. The crowd was thin around these parts, maybe no one was hungry or maybe no one had the money. Nora reached down and squeezed a small satchel on her hip, hidden under her robes, thankful for the silvers it held. She tilted her head up, reading the engraved sign over the door. "Dane's Refuge... I smell roast." Nora smiled, feeling her mouth salivate. She hurried ahead, eager for a proper meal.

...Nora had heard about days like these. Days where one bad thing happens right after the other, over and over until the person affected goes crazy. She had hardships, sure, but she never had an entire day where she was miserable. Today might have been that day. It started with torrential downpour, and led up to this moment, with her arms and legs sprawled out, body splayed awkwardly in the grass. She couldn't figure out how it had happened. One minute she was happily walking into the tavern, and the next she was flat on her ass, a throbbing pain shooting through her skull.

The ringing in her ears subsided, and she heard gasping from all angles. She could only imagine the state she was in. At least she was conscious... Somewhat.

"What did you do? Did you hit her?"

"No! No, I didn't even see her!"

"Clumsy oaf."

Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with a searing pain. Nora hissed, squeezing them shut again. There were so many voices, so many different qualities to each of them. One stood out a bit more, deep and gentle, and seemed closer to her than any of the others.

"Are you alright?"

"...Alright..." Nora mirrored back.

There was a pause. "What happened?"

"I didn't do anything, I just walked out the door! It was an accident!"

"Stop yelling. We don't want to cause any more upset than we already have." A strong pair of hands gently scooped her up by her shoulders, and sat her upright. "I've got you, miss. It's alright." Slowly, she was guided to her feet and a firm arm linked with hers.

She tried to open her eyes again. Her vision was still fuzzy, but she could feel herself being brought inside sat down somewhere warm. She could make out the borders of what were most likely stairs, tables, chairs, and many different people. As it came into focus, she realized all of the attention was on her. Nora could only imagine the state she was in to garner those shocked expressions.

The man who brought her inside was tall, and armored with finely crafted mail. Were she to guess, she might have pinned him as a member of the guard. Thick, rich brown locks were groomed neatly over his head, and a full face of stubble framed his square jaw. He was pale of skin, which made his the deep browns of his eyebrows and irises stand out all the more. "Something hot to drink, please?" He called out. "Can you hear me?" She nodded and he smiled, a deep relief found in his eyes. "Good. Please, go easy. You took a hard hit."

A frown stretched across her face, and instead of the savory smells of meat and vegetables, the only thing she could pick up was a strong, metallic scent. "Am I bleeding?"

He took a moment to examine her. "No, it doesn't look like it. It's probably going to hurt for a while, though." She thought as much. A young, disheveled woman hurried to them, setting down a ceramic mug. "Is this alright?"

Nora could smell that, at least. Coffee. Finally, something that was warm. "Oh, yes, that's perfect." She happily snatched it from the table and held it close to her chest. Her fingers started to flush with color. "Thank you... I'm Nora."

"Gerald." He nodded curtly. There was a bit of an aristocratic demeanor to his gesture. "I'm glad you're alright, Nora. Do you need me to get you anything else?"

A full plate of food came to mind, but Nora thought better than to push his generosity. She took a long, slow drink from the cup, relishing in the bitter heat. The steam actually helped the soothe the pain in her nose, as well. "...No, that's alright. But I have to ask... Were you the one who ran into me?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Thankfully not."

She looked over his shoulder and spotted the only other pair of eyes on her. A young man was clad in similar armor from head to toe, wearing a mortified expression as well as a sword and shield. Apart from suspicious, it all looked very, very solid. Solid enough to leave her in considerable pain if she was to come in contact with it. "Was it him?"

"You've your wits about you, it seems." Gerald turned to look over his shoulder. He sighed heavily and motioned the culprit over. "I'd ask you to please forgive him. We were coming out of the inn, and the dolt obviously wasn't paying attention... And you obviously got the front of the shield."

Fortunately she didn't get the metal trim. Nora watched him slowly walk over with his head bowed in preparation for a scolding, like a puppy that got caught chewing its masters slippers. He cleared his throat and shuffled a bit before finally getting the courage to look at her with his big, brown eyes. "I am so sorry. I didn't see you, and there had just been a commotion inside, everyone got riled up... I didn't mean to do it, I swear."

He may have been a dolt, but he sounded sincere. Nora leaned back in her seat and ran her index finger up and down the mug's handle. "I believe you. I guess it could have been worse..."

Relief at her lack of fury washed over his face, and he laughed nervously. "Right! It could have gone through your skull, or cut your nose off, after all." That relief soon turned to horror as he realized just how inappropriate those words were. "...You know, I have been told on many occasions that I was born with two left feet... I'll think I'll go ahead and shove one of them down my throat. Fix both of my problems."

She didn't mind his humor. After such a serious night, she almost welcomed it. Her lips spread into a big smile with, thankfully, all of her teeth intact. "I'm Nora."

"Alistair." He winced at her bruising, a large, purple mark spreading over her forehead. "Maker... I just feel terrible. I suppose I should, though."

Nora shook her head. "Like I said... It could have been worse. But let's not dwell on that, alright?"

"Agreed." Gerald rose from his chair. "I'll be back in just a moment. We've an alchemist traveling with us, and I'd like to see if he has something that can help you. If you need anything at all, Nora, Alistair will happily get it for you." He gave the young man a stern look and went on his way. By now all of the patrons and those loitering had all gone back to their own business, leaving just the two of them to their conversation.

Alistair still didn't feel comfortable sitting next to her, given the circumstances of his presence. Not to mention that his gaze kept getting drawn towards the massive bruise between her eyes. He shifted about awkwardly for a moment before trying to initiate some sort of dialogue. "So... What brings you to Lothering?"

Absolutely riveting. But it was a reasonable question. Nora folded one of her legs over the other and leaned back in her seat. "Well... There's a war down in Ostagar, isn't there?"

Immediately she knew whatever answer he had could not be pleasant. He broke their eye contact, turning his head down to the floor and closing his eyes. With a heavy sigh and a somber look, he answered her. "There was a war. It was lost. I was there... A few of us were, actually." He drew his lips into a tight line. "It... Was a massacre."

Nora could feel her stomach drop. She spoke quietly. "...I'm sorry."

Alistair ran a hand down his face, trying to wipe away the mist in his eyes and the tremble in his lips. The wound was still fresh. "Thank you. We lost a lot of good men... And women, of course. The Blight spares no one."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "We were on our way there... I guess we got lucky."

"Maybe." He sighed again, trying to exhale some of the weight that pressed down on his chest. "You say 'we'... Are you traveling with someone?"

Now that she wasn't seeing stars, Nora noticed that Carrow had gotten awfully quiet. She straightened up in her chair, and looked around. It wasn't just a matter of silence, the elven mage was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to have disappeared entirely. Maybe he tried to get a bed for the night, or something to eat. Nora actually didn't mind the lack of his presence, to be honest. It was, after all, refreshing to be away from someone so confrontational and violent. Assuming that Alistair's 'shielding' truly was unintentional.

She tried to assume the best in everyone.


The only place where the refugees didn't crowd was a small alley behind the tavern. Carrow had stepped over many tent spikes and frightened children to get to that little place of solitude. He didn't like being out in the open, and especially didn't want to be stared at by hungry eyes while he ate. His hand was tucked under his robe's top coat, holding a roasted beef sandwich. He snatched it off of one of the fatter patron's plates, the entire attention of the tavern having been gripped by Nora's ordeal. He squeezed the bread tightly, flattening it down, as his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

It was low quality food, but that didn't matter. These were no doubt the scraps from what was left over after the carcass had been stripped... But this dry, coagulated, hard-crusted sandwich was exactly what his body craved. An animalistic hunger wracked his body, and with a wide, open mouth he began to stuff as much of this flavorless fuel into it as possible. A low growl came from the back of his throat. This wouldn't satiate him, but it was a start to quenching the burning pit in his stomach. He was so taken with his table scraps, he almost didn't notice the human man coming towards him.

Carrow stepped back, his eyes on the unwanted company. With a sneer and an angered expression, he actually managed to make this armored man stop in his tracks. "...Excuse me. Can I have a moment to speak with you?"

He narrowed his eyes, a strip of meat hanging down from his teeth. What little patience he had, he didn't want to waste on someone like this. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the grass underneath his feet began to crystallize. A chill from his body seeped through the air around them, and small bits of frost flaked off of his robes. "Back off."

The human walked towards him, though tentatively. "I mean you no harm, I just want to have a word with you." He lowered his voice. "Don't do anything stupid. There are Templars everywhere, and they're under massive stress. All it takes is one person screaming about an apostate and you'll be carted off."

The cold subsided, and Carrow resumed silently stuffing his face. Well, not entirely. Small growls and quick gasps for breath filled the space between him and the desecrated sandwich. He spread his elbows out, defending that food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Yes, well... Let me introduce myself. You may call me Gerald, if you like. I was hoping to ask you about your travel mate." He watched the elf with disgusted amusement. "...And, ah, yourself."

Carrow pulled his head back, ripping through a stubborn piece of gristle. "I'm not with her. I was just behind her."

That was hardly convincing. Gerald pressed further. "What's your story? Have you fled the Circle?"

"Hardly. We were taken from it."

"By the Chantry?"

"A Grey Warden."

There was a long pause of silence between them. Gerald tilted his head, both brows high on his forehead. "A Grey Warden? I find that a little hard to believe."

"I don't care what you believe." Without missing a beat, Carrow reached into his chest pocket, showing him the wax seal from the summons. "I want that back when you're done with it."

Gerald took it, and flipped over it several times. Indeed, it bore the same gryphon imprint as the crest for the order. He nodded slowly. "I see. So have you two been initiated, already? Where's the senior Warden?"

He handed the seal back to Carrow, who pocketed it again. He took a moment to chew, that last bite still somewhat caught in the back of his throat. "I don't know if he was a senior or not, but right now he's dead."

Gerald paced around to the elf's opposite side. "I'm... Sorry. What were you planning to do?"

Carrow swallowed audibly and shrugged. "I don't know."

Again, hardly convincing. "Did you undergo your Joining before he passed?"

"Both of us drank the blood. Why don't you go bother her, instead?"

"Then you're both Grey Wardens. So am I." That actually got Carrow's attention. He turned to Gerald, now only left with the crust of his meal. "It's not just me. The man who accidentally hurt your friend has been a member of the order for a while, now. And we have an elf who went through the Joining, too. We were under the assumption that no Grey Wardens in Ferelden remained... Obviously, we were mistaken."

Carrow stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, his cheeks swollen from the volume of bread. He folded his arms and turned away from Gerald, a crease of thought in his brow. There was still a resistance to him, something that was making him difficult to reach. Gerald stepped in front of him, closing another inch of distance between the two. He wouldn't be shut out so easily.

"Whatever you had planned, let me tell you this. Going off on your own is either going to amount to nothing or turn into pointless suicide. Do you even know what's going on in the south? It's been overrun by the Darkspawn. The King's armies were defeated in a matter of hours."

After a decent bout of chewing, the elf managed to get down the stale remains. His entire demeanor had changed from icy defiance to, surprisingly, worry. "...You're talking like you're leading up to something. So get to it."

"The Grey Wardens are the only ones who can end the Blight. Without us all coming together to fight the Darkspawn, Ferelden will be lost." He placed a hand on Carrow's shoulder. "You were without guidance. I understand your apprehension, and your confusion. And I know you're tired."

He shrugged it off. "So, what? You want me to go with you, then?"

Gerald nodded. Both of you, yes. But first... I want you to tell me about your recruitment."

"Why?"

The man placed a thoughtful hand on his chin, beginning to pace once more. "You were recruited during a Blight. That might mean that not all of the Wardens were at Ostagar. Perhaps... More than just one went out to initiate new members. There may be more like you, spread across Ferelden." It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough for him to hope. He moved both hands behind his back, and looked up at the sky. The sun had risen, though the morning was still young. "We're going to need everyone we can get."

The shriek of a startled child snapped them both out of their thoughts. Gerald gave him a final, urgent look, and started to walk out of the alley.

A few minutes later, with much apprehension, Carrow followed.