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Rodin ran, long lolloping strides, arms by his sides, the kind of pace he used to keep up for a couple of hours. Frustrating that he already had a stitch growing, though. Fortunate for him that the Brothers’ house was close.
It appeared deserted, the lights from previous visits no longer illuminated, but as he stepped to the gate a now-familiar pair of guards approached.
“Bit early,” one of them said as the gate opened and Rodin walked through. Seemed he wasn’t considered a risk now.
“Don’t want to disturb his beauty sleep, but you know how it is.”
“Never said he was asleep.”
They let him into the building, and a guard took Rodin to a room on the ground floor, a food prep with a round table. Jornas sat there, steaming mug to one side, untouched bowl of fruit in front of hi
