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Fayne slipped through the moonlit alley, his movements as silent as the shadows cloaking him. Rounding a corner, he strained to hear the fading echoes of heavy boots on stone.
His lungs burned as he searched for refuge, any sanctuary to escape the endless hunt. Slumping into a corner, he let the power shift his face, bones twisting into the guise of the old beggar woman he had mimicked before.
He froze as the magehound padded past, its Captain gripping the leash tightly. A cold dread gripped him when the hound paused, sniffing the air.
Such a crime, to be hunted for being different.
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