Landon of Alvilaid was running, telling himself that he would never do this again.
"Out o' the way!" he called, his Elven accent cutting clear through the crowd.
"Get him! Go! Move! Stop him!" Norwan soldiers were yelling.
Landon skidded around a sharp corner, barely missing being run over by a horse. Running through an Alvilaian market was a pastime he was used to, but disliked intensely for lack of movement.
Wait. . . . he was at the corner Alina always shopped at. Please, please, don't let her be there. . .!
But, she was.
"Alina!" he yelled, running too fast to evade her. To stop the soldiers temporarily, Landon knocked over a display of baskets as he crashed into his childhood friend.
"Landon!" she exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what I-"
"No time, just run!" Landon thrust her things into her arm, grabbed her free hand and began to run. "A'll explain myself later on, I promise." he added.
Alina was forced to run towards to dock, where she and Landon barely made it onto a boat.
Drenched in sweat and sailing away from her island home, Alina glared at Landon. "What do you think you are doing? What will my master say when he think I've run away? You really think you can waltz in and sweep me away just because soldiers are chasing you?"
Landon chuckled to himself. "Nay, Alina, I was merely short on time. But why not come to Deyhlin with me? I can get ye a better job, a place to sleep, an' some good female company? What say you?"
Alina sighed and sat down. "I say that you owe me three silver coins for the food you spoiled." she snapped.
Landon nodded. "I S'pose that I may come up wi' that." he chucked to himself. "No worryin' yer pretty head, no."