Fran forced herself awake early. The night was still dark, but she could feel that the leaves she’d gone to sleep in had already transformed themselves into a cheap motel bed.
She’d done every protective Working on herself she could think of before going to sleep. It hadn’t worked. So someone very powerful was transporting her back to Jackson during the night…
…or someone was turning the clock back on Jackson to the day before. She swung her legs down, missed running into her gear bag this time, and headed out into town.
The antsy dog was sleeping in front of the supply depot. The weak spot in the wall was restored. The tree overhanging the wall didn’t have the raw place anymore where she’d scraped the bark. Far out on the horizon, she could see a force of people growing closer.
She woke the Mayor. They woke the defense force, such as it was. The pitiful force gathered in front of the gate, ten people to Gorjarn’s fifty warriors.
“Give us Franciszka the Denier!” Gorjarn shouted. The townspeople stared at Fran. Her, they could take. She was an easy target.
As she darted towards the wall, she saw one skinny teenager staring at her, eyes wide.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1060875.html. You can comment here or there.