Famine #45: Enemies At-Hand (WeWriWa)
It’s the weekend and we all know that means Weekend Writing Warriors. Thanks for leaving lovely comments on last week’a post from Famine. Today’s snippet is another random one that I hope you will enjoy.
Ewan, Claire’s oldest and most dangerous ravener, stepped into the night and leaned over the balcony rail. He looked left and right, frowned, and then straightened. Besting Bartholomew’s six-plus feet by several inches, Ewan was a Scottish brute with cropped chestnut hair and a scar running from ear to ear across his face—a gift from Bartholomew. He shrugged out of his black frock coat, dropping it upon the balcony and leaving dark streaks on the clean laundry. Ewan swiped both sides of a blade clean with his tongue, returned it to its sheath, then hopped over the rail to the alley below.
A moment later, Barnes appeared, backlit by a fire’s wicked orange glow. He was followed by shouts and the thud of running feet and banging doors throughout the building. He shed a pair of kid gloves and tossed them back into the apartment, then he wiped his face on one of the sheets, leapt up to catch the roof, and disappeared over the ledge.
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