Benjamin kept his own presence small and his eyes moving, noting exits and corners the way someone might note the location of deep water while walking along a narrow bridge.
They followed the main lane downward until the sound of raised voices and the clink of pottery reached them.
Ahead stood a particular tavern, the loudest place they had encountered since entering the gloomy stretch of the city.
Laughter rolled out in short bursts, mixed with the deeper rumble of conversation and the occasional sharp call for more drink.
Compared to the muted streets around it, the tavern felt aggressively alive; a pocket of noise and warmth in a place that had learned to be quiet.
Erica stopped a short distance from the entrance and turned to face Benjamin.
She straightened her shoulders, steeling herself the way a person might before stepping into cold water. Her chin lifted. Her hands settled at her sides.
