Still have a cold. I'm not sure how I managed to do that well. It makes me wonder how good I would be doing if I didn't feel half dead!
Here is a snippet from today's work:
They went out through a side door into the cold night. She felt the chill take her and she shivered as they hurried across the small yard and toward the gate. The guard there looked up, startled.
"Out. She goes out, tonight."
"Ma'am?" the woman said, startled.
"Out into the streets with her -- and don't you dare to argue with me, or you'll be out there with her."
"Ma'am, I don't think --"
"Open the gate for Mrs. Wynith," another voice said, and a man came closer.
"Yes sir," the first guard said, and any hope died once again. The woman went to the gate and began to crank it open, though she looked back, clearly uncertain.
"You'll owe me for this favor," the man said softly.
"Oh, I'll owe more than you," she said, but didn't sound at all upset by it. "My spies did me well this time." She even took a coin from her pocket and passed it to the man. "For your good work, Jid. Are they waiting?"
"I got word out. I heard them come," he said.
He smiled, and looked Beth over without a hint of compassion, and shoved her toward the partially open gate. "Out with you, then. And don't come back again."
She slipped through and outside. The gate slammed shut behind her.
"Oh, lookee here," someone said close by. "Look what Mrs. Wynith tossed us. What a nice woman she be --"
A hand grabbed her arm, the fingers skeletal and tight. She yelped in surprise and pain and hit the hand with enough force that the thing -- it hardly felt human -- let go.
They tried to grab her again. Beth fought back. She heard curses and cries of pain, but she got free of whatever had waited there, in the dark. She ran, her bare feet against the cold ground, the tears stinging her face.
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