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Weekly Contest #235
Gray clouds crawled through the evening sky, the promise of a storm trembling in the bellies of the fullest pockets. Warm puffs hung in the air from Athilea’s quick breathing as she crept through the cold, damp streets, avoiding the streams of sewage running down the thin canals. Rats feasted on rotten food, and drunks lay passed out in the alleyways. She tucked behind the stone column of a corner store while a group of peasants hurried along, pulling her hood over her long dark hair and stepping farther into the shadows. Her beauty far sur...
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