Hajin slipped into the alley with his thumb hooked on the sword guard while the streetlamps lost their reach overhead. Rot thickened past the last of the light until he tasted it behind his teeth, sour enough that he spat.
He glanced down as the band on his left pinky warmed against the skin.
"Done napping?" he asked privately, pushing the words down the bond instead of tossing them into the street.
"Hardly napping," she replied, her amusement curling through the bond, "I am watching you stroll into a rather obvious ambush."
'Obvious to you, maybe, but I only smell rot, so spill what's waiting before it says hello.'
Her calm felt almost insulting beside the taint pressing against every one of his senses.
"A mutated dog from the outer pits," she said, "very eager to be noticed."
"The last eager one wrecked a whole forest escort," he hissed, flexing the fingers beside his hilt, "give me something better than its damn manners."
