I leaned against the wall of the Chantry, watching with Petrice and Fiolya as Meredith strode up and down the five lines of Elves standing at attention. Four months had been nearly enough to replace our losses, mostly by means of promoting the surviving members of the militia up to being full members of the Watch. A few volunteers had rounded out the numbers; mostly new immigrants eager to be able to legally defend themselves and their new home.

That was all pretty good, I supposed. The Alienage's defenders were back up to strength, ready to do their part and all. But the real good news, the best part, was the fact that I was over here, watching, instead over there, shadowing Meredith like poor Nethon and Elowen.

"You think Merrill and Anders are all right?" I murmured, trying to roll my shoulders a little. My 'fancy' armor, mostly chainmail with a few plates that kind of resembled Merrill's late-game wear, wasn't quite broken in yet. It was leaving me irritated and uncomfortable to begin with, and the vague aches from Thrask's Draining were as pleasant as ever.

Petrice hummed. "I am sure they made it to the Hanged Man just fine, my lady."

"Do you think-"

"No." She said at once. "You cannot invent an excuse to leave to chase them down."

Fiolya giggled from my other side, whispering, "The Mother knows you too well, lady."

"True statement." I told her. "Go on. Meredith already praised your comportment, you're safe to run off and hang out with your friends or go take a nap. Be back by the fifth bell so we can get to the dinner on time."

My squire beamed, gave me a quick hug, then darted off.

Petrice watched her go, smiling a little. "She reverts to childhood quickly enough. It is good to see, after what the poor soul went through."

I made a vague sound of agreement, inching closer to her until my shoulder was pressing into her side. Huffing quietly, she took the hint, stepping behind me to better slide her arms around my waist. Her chin came to rest on the top of my head, robes practically swallowing me.

"...was I too forward, yesterday?" I asked, knowing that we had to talk about it.

"Yes." She said, pausing for a long moment before murmuring. "I... it pushed the boundaries of our unspoken agreement, Maeve."

I smiled a little, half closing my eyes, not really watching the rest of the inspection. That wasn't my job anymore, and I was thoroughly enjoying that fact. "You mean it got you hot and bothered."

Her arms tightened slightly, but she didn't deny it. "It was also not terribly courtly of you, and done in public besides."

"I'm courtly most of the time with you." I replied. "But you like that I'm a thug at times too."

"...yes." She admitted quietly, "But perhaps it would be best to restrain in the open, lady. Our positions are difficult enough at times without more rumors of our personal relationship. I have already had to assure the Grand Cleric that I have not broken my vows. I dread being called up to answer such questions for a second time."

"...sorry." I murmured.

"Are you?"

"...not really." I closed my eyes entirely, simply enjoying the act of being held. It was a pleasant balm against the headache brought on by my lack of mana. My general exhaustion with this entire tourney, and all of the problems that Greg, and Cousland, and the Wardens had brought with them. And... well, the fact that I was having more personal problems. Specifically involving the woman holding on to me. Whether it was Longing's influence or just my natural preferences, I wasn't sure. What I was sure about was what I told her next.

"It's probably a good thing I've mostly been staying at the estate over the past couple of months. Our little game is getting harder to handle."

Her voice lowered further, into something uncertain. "...meaning?"

I let my head fall back against her, voice lowering even further. "Hawke put this image of you slipping into my bed at night into my head... and now I can't get rid of it."

Those arms tightened briefly, then she seemed to force them to relax. "Oh. That kind of difficulty. I feared you meant something else."

"Really?" A bit of a growl entered my words, "You thought I was breaking up with you? Do you have any idea how hard it was to not chew on your neck to mark my territory last night?"

Petrice let out an embarrassed little noise, "Lady."

"Well it was." I huffed. "Especially when you squeaked. That was adorable as hell. I'm... ugh. I know you have your vows, I just... needed to tell you that I'm getting frustrated. Especially when you go all out with the courtly manners to make a point to Isabella."

"I... um..." Her throat cleared. "I see, my lady. I did not realize that was... becoming a problem for you."

I twitched a shoulder, "Blame experience in hiding what I'm feeling. Gotten plenty of practice in that over the past few months, with everyone trying to tell me things aren't my fault."

"They-"

"-are." I interrupted. "The attack was my fault, Petrice."

It was her turn to let a bit of a growl enter her words, "No. It was not, Lady. It was the fault of maleficar and abominations who turned from the Maker to slaughter his children out of nothing more than their own corrupt ignorance."

Another shrug. "Not going to argue about that again. I'd rather ask you if there's any loopholes in your vows."

There was a hitch in her breath. "Maeve... there is no such loophole."

"...ugh." I opened my eyes again, looking to where Meredith was talking to Elowen alone, Nethon dismissing the Watch one rank at a time. "I respect you enough not to push any farther, Petrice. Just... I don't know. You hit buttons I'm very weak to, especially after more than a year celibate. I know it's not fair to you. I shouldn't even be thinking about it, not when my goal is still to go home. I should be content with our game... but I'm... ugh."

"...I can stop." She offered, even though her voice betrayed the fact that she didn't want to.

"No, I just... I don't know." I bit my lip, chewing on it for a long moment. "Once this tourney is done with, the Warden situation deal with... can we sit down and talk about us? Give me some time to think about it some more."

"Of course, my lady." The Revered Mother replied. "I..."

I cleared my throat, raising my voice a little when I noticed someone walking our way before she did. "How is the progress on our Qunari containment operations?"

It took her a moment, but she sounded calm as well when she replied. "It progresses quite nicely, my lady. Ser Varnell was able to ambush and eliminate another of their illegal patrols outside of the city. He reports that you were entirely correct; they appeared to be searching for something along the coast, and another of their patrols turned bandit rather than return to the city. They fled east after his men drove them away from the road."

"Still the Qunari?" The Knight-Commander asked, slowing to a stop a few paces away. "I see you have not changed at all despite your duties in your new Chantry, Mother Petrice."

Petrice stiffened a little behind me, swiftly leaving our awkward conversation on intimacy behind in favor of her truest passion. "The Qunari are the most heretical of all peoples, Knight-Commander. It is the duty of all those of faith to stand against them."

Meredith looked skeptical. "More heretical than the Maleficar that burned Andraste?"

"Maleficar are dangerous, yes. They are also few in number, and most ably contained by your noble Templars." Petrice replied. "The Qunari are many, vicious, and far more insidious. It is they, not aging Tevinter, who have come closest to destroying faith in the Maker since the days of Andraste."

I nodded in agreement, speaking up, "She's got a point, Knight-Commander. A screaming Abomination's not exactly going to have many friends in the city to help them. Not without great heaps of gold to pay them like they did the Flint Company, and they had to have exhausted decades' worth of saving up coppers to afford what they did."

Her head shifted in a reluctant nod, "Perhaps, but that does not change the purpose of my Order."

"Agreed." I said soothingly, stepping back when Petrice tried to break away. There was a soft huff against my scalp; her arms settling back into place around me. "The Mother doesn't want you to abandon the Gallows or your duties. But maybe a bit of support for Brennan's calls to expand her budget? They're still badly understaffed."

Petrice added her own words to bolster the case, "They are barely able to maintain the peace even with your assistance. A greater number of trained Guards would allow you to pull more of your Templars back to their true duties, and to give this city more able warriors when the Qunari inevitably grow tired of docility."

"This argument again." Meredith put her hands on her hips, looking tired, but for once she didn't seem ready to shoot us down right at the start. "You both know that the corruption of the Captain's predecessor makes increasing their budget untenable this year. Likely for several years yet to come."

"We know, that's why we've got two other ideas." I said. "You can use the same loophole you used with us for both: Chantry Auxiliaries. Aren't you accepting Dwarven squires, training them as Templars? Petrice thinks you could expand that program into a mixed-race militia for the city."

A blonde-white eyebrow rose. "That is the Guard-Captain's long-term plan for the Guard, is it not?"

"It is," Petrice replied, "But the Guard-Captain does not believe that will be political viable for years yet. A small group of recruits, volunteers from each of the three Guards within the city, overseen by a Templar officer, could be created solely as a watch on the Qunari compound. A proof of concept of the future amalgamation."

"Not many," I assured her, "Maybe ten dwarves, humans, and Elves, plus a Templar. Surely the Chantry's budget could handle that? Plus they could take over the patrol routes for that entire section of the docks, and with a Templar in command they could be trained in identifying maleficar trying to sneak into and out of the city by ship. That'll ease up some pressure on your Order and Brennan's Guards at the same time, and probably won't cost all that much either."

"...it has potential." Meredith allowed, "I shall consider it. What is your second concept?"

Petrice provided it, "A small force of Faithful Knights, perhaps kept near the Qunari compound, could be done more quickly and quietly. Again with nothing more than a small group of Templars to command and train them."

The Knight-Commander's relaxing features pulled into yet another frown. "And how would such an organization be paid, Mother? Your Chantry reclamation project drained most of the Grand Cleric's available coin, and the Viscount's own rebuilding efforts strain what the nobles are willing to provide. Perhaps it could be strained to pay for thirty mere Guards, but Knights are another matter. Even the lowest of them will demand wages equivalent to their station."

"We pay them in land, of course. Are we not all tired of the dangers of the coastal roads? Roads that grow ever more dangerous as Qunari desert and become Tal-Vashoth? Giving sections of that land to new Knights in exchange for service would be a boon to the city and the March."

"That land is hardly viable for anything." Meredith countered, "There is a reason it lays empty."

I shrugged in Petrice's arms. "It's still land, Commander. How many hedge knights who are here for the tourney would jump at the chance to have any kind of permanent home at all? And it's not like we're looking for an army of hundreds, nice as that would be. Even a dozen would be an improvement. Plus, if the land is so awful, we can give away larger strips of it than usual to make the deal seem better."

"...a fair point." Meredith allowed, armored fingers rising to rub at her chin. "And you would have them inducted as Chantry Auxiliaries as well?"

"Yeah. No taxes on them that way." I nodded, "Say for five years, or some other set time period. They serve the Chantry for wages, and aren't taxed on their land or the coin they're paid until that term of service ends. Gives them a chance to spend whatever they earn on building homes, improving their land, that kind of thing. The smart ones at least. That'll get the VIscount on board. He really wants the roads out of the city to be safer, the area surrounding the walls more built up."

Petrice spoke up in agreement, "And there will likely be enough fools who do not manage their coin well, who have to sell the land back to the Chantry, that the Grand Cleric may recoup any wages paid during that time. She can simply reclaim their lands, then resell them to those with more sense."

The Knight-Commander hummed again, eyes still narrowed in consideration. "And any that purchase land in the city instead will spend their coin within it, further pleasing the Viscount."

"Quite." The Mother replied. "I have a preliminary draft of the concepts and agreements, but I was hoping for your aid in presenting it to the Grand Cleric tomorrow. If she is accepting, then a statement could be made during the Grand Melee and the Grand Tourney, or the feasts that take place after."

Meredith mulled on it for most of a silent minute before speaking. "...I shall consider it. The second concept is the stronger, if only because it promises a recoup of the coin spent. How many Templars would you need to supervise such a group?"

"The Knight-Commander would be more knowledgeable of such things."

When Meredith merely arched an eyebrow, glancing to me, I shrugged. "Depends on how many we get to bite on the idea. One Templar per six Knights, maybe? At least at first, to weed out anyone who isn't doing their duty. We can probably ease off on that later, or maybe use Guards instead."

The number made her frown. "I do not-"

One moment she was about to tell me that she didn't like how many of her Templars that would occupy.

The next and I was on the ground, ears ringing from the explosion.

Somehow I'd gotten on top of Petrice, sheltering her as best my smaller body would allow as debris rained down all around us. I felt splinters of wood and gravel ricochet off my armored back, head peeking up enough to see Meredith crouched as well, an arm thrown over her head. Only when the last few objects struck the dirt around us did she rise, a ferocious scowl on her face.

She shouted something that I couldn't make out, her lips repeating the words as my hearing slowly returned. "...the gate!"

I turned around to see a cloud of smoke coming from the top of the stairs, "...fuck! Petrice, you all right!?"

"Y-yes!" She stammered, shaking her head as I scrambled off of her. "Maleficar again!?"

No. There hadn't been any of my usual tells when a spell went off. No sparks, sounds, or tastes. And no magic but an explosion meant one thing in Thedas, "No, Qunari powder!"

Meredith snarled, already storming past me, "I felt no spell! She is right, prepare to defend the Alienage!"

Looking around, I confirmed that Nethon was doing his job; the Night's Watch Captain was already shouting for the dispersing men and women to get back, to form up. For her part Meredith picked up speed, racing for the stairs leading up and out of the Alienage. I got my legs moving, hot on her heels, both of us yanking our swords out as we did.

I let her stay ahead of me, her longer legs letting her take the stairs two at a time. More debris clogged up the stairs the farther up we got, and I didn't have any problems picking out the wreckage of the old gate. Skipping over shattered bits of crude iron and wood, I followed Meredith out into the square just outside of the Alienage.

Wounded men and women were everywhere; maybe half of Meredith's honor guard were laying still, and nearly all of the rest were weakly pulling their armor off to try and stem bleeding. A few were keeping their jaws clenched, but a couple were screaming along with a handful of civilians who'd been caught in the blast.

Said blast had left a small crater right in front of where the gate had been, and... a very mangled corpse of a horse laying still in the street. What might have once been a wagon had been turned into shrapnel that covered the ground, protruded from too many of the wounded. More civilians were rushing away in panicked flight, screaming about another magical riot, but a few were racing in, already trying to help those who'd been hurt. Conspicuously absent was a wall of armed Qunari charging at us. Even a glance upwards didn't let me see any archers lurking on the roofs, ready to turn us into pincushions.

Meredith scowled at the chaos of it all, plunging into the crater to get around the dead beast of burden, moving to check on the nearest of her Templars who was struggling to get his battered armor off to tend to his wounds.

"What happened?" She bellowed. "Squire!"

Trevelyan poked her head outside of the gatehouse; even from a distance she looked woozy, probably concussed. Thrask was visible behind her, helping the girl stay upright when she nearly tipped over. "...a cart. It just... fire..."

Someone had pulled a cart loaded with explosives up next to our gate. Holy fucking hell. A suicide bomber in the fucking middle ages? I wouldn't put it past the Qunari, to be honest. It wasn't their normal way of doing things, true, but if they thought that the cost of one life was worth it... yeah, they'd do it. The question was why, and why weren't they taking advantage of the chaos?

"Thrask!" I shouted. "You and Emeric all right?"

"Yes, Lady." The Knight-Lieutenant called back, "The Squire will be fine, but we need more healers! Quickly!"

Petrice's voice came from behind me, panting from the effort of running up the stairs. "I am here! The Night's Watch is coming as well, and the Sisters shall be right behind them!"

Meredith pointed sharply to the right, "Mother Petrice, care for that man first! Dame Maeve! I want a cordon around this entire block at once!"

"Got it." I stepped aside, letting Petrice move past. My eyes snapped around once more, trying to take in everything. Trying to figure just what the Arishok was up to. Why the hell he or the Ben-Hassrath had done this. If they were going to attack the Alienage, why not hit a wall, as the mages had done? Blowing up the gate really didn't do anything, not with the narrow stairwell still easy to defend. Sure, they'd taken out some Templars, but did that actually get them anything? I didn't think so.

It had to be a hit on Meredith. It was the only thing that made sense. A failed one, where they'd gotten the timing wrong or something, but there could still be a follow up.

My eyes flicked from street to street, alley to doorway, checking for anyone looking out of place. Nothing. The Iron Bull wasn't lurking in a corner, ready to rush out. Neither was anyone else.

I was about to call out to Nethon, to tell him to send spears down all three streets, and get archers up high as usual when my gaze slid back upwards...

...just in time to see several figures in black hoods, complete with bandannas covering their features, appear on the rooftops I'd sworn had been clear. All of them were pulling things out from under their cloaks, sparks flying before small orbs were hurtled down.

Orbs with burning strings tailing from them.

My blood turned to ice, hands desperately grabbing at Petrice to yank her back. "Grenades!"

It was a stupid word to use, brought on by startled panic. No one one around me had the faintest idea what a fucking grenade was. A few people reacted to my tone if not the word, but most of the surviving Templars and the tiny handful of good samaritans just turned to stare at me blankly.

I saw Thrask grab Trevelyan, hauling her back into the scorched gatehouse. The Knight-Commander whipped her head around, saw the first little bomb falling, and threw herself back toward the crater. Petrice skidded to a stop, the two of us both trying to pull the other onto the ground.

We landed in the dirt just as the first of the grenades went off with harsh cracks that again sent my ears to ringing. Petrice managed to land on top of me, burying me in her robes. We rolled hard somewhere near the second harsh crack of an explosion, getting the pair of us back onto that first stair. I threw a leg out to stop us from rolling all the way down them, pinning Petrice down, ducking my head below the edge of the steps. Even then part of my back was exposed, my jaw clenching when several sharp blows hit me there. My armor must have held because I didn't die, but that didn't make it pleasant. The cacophony made me squeeze my eyes shut, desperately holding onto Petrice as grenades seven and eight went off farther away.

I lost count of the number of explosions after that. Somewhere between 'a lot' and 'too fucking many' went off before the impacts on my senses abruptly ended, leaving nothing but a vague ringing and distant shouting.

My head rose slowly in the wake of the explosions, peeking up over the stairwell to see... carnage.

All of the survivors from the bomb blast were definitely dead now. Blood covered the ground, spreading away from the limp corpses. The only person who was moving was Meredith, and she only barely managed to half-crawl out of the original impact crater before collapsing in a limp heap.

...holy shit.

Meredith Stannard was face-down in the dirt, her armor rent, blood soaking her hair.

...fuck. Holy fuck.

What was...

"...lady!" A woman grabbed me, pulling me off of Petrice. I nearly fell over before strong arms got under mine, letting me get my feet set. "Maeve!"

I shook my head once, then a second time until I could actually see Shina right in front of me, realize she'd been the one yelling my name. Her arms wrapped around my chest, pushing me to one side so that the Night's Watch could pour through the narrow entrance. She stepped up closer, pinning me to the wall just as I'd just pinned Petrice to the ground. A Petrice the Watch were now carefully leaping over, scrambling to get out to protect everyone.

"...roofs! Watch the roofs!" I managed to gasp out. "Archers up!"

Nethon bellowed what I'd only been able to mutter, leading the last section of the Watch past. "Archers up! Shield wall, cordon the street! Sisters to the Knight-Commander!"

Right... right. She could still be alive. I had no idea if her living was good or bad, for the Alienage or for Thedas, but it would look fucking terrible if we just let the Qunari murder her in front of us. "Petrice... Petrice! We need you!"

I started to push off from the wall now that rush of people was past, to try and help her up, only for Shina to bodily shove me back once more. The impact made me grunt, blink, and then manage to get a scowl going.

"What?" I grimaced when tightened her grip, "Shina, she and I need to help. Let me go already, I'm not hit."

Shina's expression was ashen. "Lady..."

"What, we need to-" Her eyes dipped to the right, down to Petrice, then back to me, and...

...and something cracked inside of me. "-start... no. No. No!"

I don't remember getting away from her.

I barely remembered giving her the black eye that forced her away, leaving another member of the Watch to catch her before she could topple down the stairs.

I don't remember going back to Petrice, though I must have staggered my way up the stairwell. Didn't remember kneeling.

I... I remember seeing her laying still where I'd tried to shelter her.

Her lips parted in surprise, eyes staring upwards into the endless sky. Blood dripping down the stair that she lay upon.

I remember shaking hands ripped her robes open, uncaring of her modesty, desperately trying to find the wounds. To staunch the bleeding.

Finding nothing on her front.

Hands sliding beneath her, to her back, to find a thousand cuts and gashes already coating the stairwell.

Blood soaked fingers emerging, pressing against her throat, trying to find a pulse.

No.

No. No. No. No.

My ear pressed to her sternum.

Silence.

"Longing!" I rasped, pouring whatever scraps of will I had left into pulling at our tether. "Longing! Help!"

My body seemed to lock up, as if something else had shoved its way in, staring through my eyes... then my arms went limp.

"Maeve... she's gone."

"No!"

"Lady!" Shina was grabbing me again, pulling me away. I fought her only for someone else to grab at my arms, forcing me to my feet. Dragging me up and into the open. Leaving more room for others to come sprinting up the stairs. "Lady! She's gone!"

I tried to throw them off, to call up magic to simply hurl them away. Physical pain racing through my brain was the only thing I accomplished, my drained body unable to find so much as a drop of mana to work with. More hands joined in, hauling me farther away. Pushing me down, forcing me to sit.

"Lady!" Someone was in front of me, hugging me. Fiolya. My squire had tears running down her cheeks, her strong arms holding mine to my sides. "Lady!"

"...no." I rasped. "No. It can't..."

Fiolya shifted, shuffling over just a little, keeping herself between me and the stairs. Stopping me from looking at what couldn't be.

"...not like this. She can't... not..." My head shook, "No. Fiolya, she can't..."

The girl pressed her cheek against mine, our skin wet with tears. "Lady... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I shuddered, chest heaving. My vision blurred, but I could still see where Petrice's subordinates were pulling Meredith up. Putting her onto a make-shift stretcher of some kind, four elves taking the corners to get her moving. Others fell in around them, Thrask pulling a shell-shocked Trevelyan with, leading them in a rush toward Hightown.

My stomach was rolling. The tears were getting worse. I couldn't breathe. Everything felt shaky.

It wasn't until Fiolya turned away, whipping her head left to right that my fogged up mind realized that the shaking wasn't coming from the cracks in my mind.

I stared blankly over the girl's shoulder as the enormous Golem marched into view, the ground trembling with each step. Arrows were already pinging off of it, fired down from the archers above... but this wasn't a game. There was no hit point bar to whittle down.

The Golem was made of stone, and arrows didn't do a damn thing to slow it down. It didn't even seem to notice or care about them. Nor did it care much about the spears thrust at it by those brave enough to try. They simply broke their weapons against the rock, and found themselves casually swept aside by negligent sweeps of its thick arms. It didn't turn to finish them off. Didn't even seriously hurt them. It just shattered their weapons and continued marching forward, crushing already dead Templars beneath its stone feet.

I stared as it moved past the stairwell. Moved past where I knelt with Fiolya. Its glowing eyes locked ahead on its target.

"...going after Meredith." I heard myself mutter. "This entire thing, start to finish. A hit on Meredith. I was right. Just... missed the men on the roof on my first check."

My fault.

My fault again.

Again.

I'd missed it.

And now Petrice...

"Maeve, not now." Longing must have still been listening, her voice urgent in my ear. "Do not give into despair now, do not bring Grief back! Not when this isn't over! Golems need controllers!"

...she was still looking through my eyes. That was bad.

...she was also correct. A Golem meant a control rod. A control rod meant someone could still be watching what was happening. Giving the Golem its orders, sending it in to make sure of the kill.

I shook an arm free from Fiolya, legs straightening, getting me upright. I shook my head once, trying to push the thoughts aside. Then twice.

Then I slapped myself across the face, making Fiolya yelp and try to catch my wrist again.

"No." I growled, getting my other arm free, "This isn't over. Get back into the Alienage. Inside the Chantry, in the panic room. Stay there. Go."

"Lady-"

"No! I'm not losing you today too!" A quick twist shoved her back, leaving me in front of her, letting my gaze sweep over the chaos. Men and women were still trying to slow the golem down however they could as it pursued Meredith's litter. Throwing debris at it, rushing ahead, shouting for the streets to clear. For Thrask to hurry the pace. The square was clearing.

All except for one figure, on the far side. A Dwarf in casual clothing, who'd been kneeling over a Human woman who'd been caught in the blast, pushing himself to his feet with a cane. A cane with some kind of crystal on top, and runes carved along it from top to bottom. My eyes slid over him, seeing a wild black beard, short cropped hair, and dark eyes already locking on to mine.

I recognized those eyes. That beard. I'd seen them just a few hours ago at the Tourney, staring at me from beneath a cloak when a Dalish Warden had swept into Varric's booth.

Pieces slowly fell together in my brain.

Fact. No other Wardens had come to the Grand Tourney. Not even the local branch of the Marches.

Fact. Only Ferelden's had come, and they'd come with an Earthling trying to hide among them. Hide from even his future sister-in-law.

Fact. Greg had said there were objectives to accomplish in Kirkwall.

Fact. He'd disguised his future knowledge by claiming talent as a Seer... and that the Hero of Ferelden believed him.

Fact. That Hero of Ferelden that fell far more into the ruthless camp than the paragon one. Someone who had promised consequences for myself if I didn't do as instructed.

Fact. By all accounts, she had a subordinate even more ruthless than she.

Fact. They'd killed Petrice.

He had killed Petrice.

HE'D KILLED PETRICE.

"Stay!" I shouted, shoving Fiolya aside. "You stay here!"

"Lady-"

I was already running past her, a hand snapping down to grab the sword from a Templar's dead fingers. The disguised Warden was off like a bolt ahead of me, vanishing down the first alley he could.

And so my pursuit began.