58
Jori
Jori felt like a hero in a book. Or, he would, if he weren’t wedging himself between two muddy wooden planks like a child hiding from its nurse.
Armor was distinctly overrated. He’d suspected it already, though he couldn’t deny its aesthetic appeal, but now the verdict was clear. Too clunky. Too hard to move in.
“Isn’t this exactly what you were expecting?” he hissed at the trailing group of soldiers behind him, flashing them a grin.
Nobody answered. Spoilsports.
A small pang of regret lanced through him that so many people knew about these places now. He was giving up the best hideouts, after all. Parties, escapes, stolen kisses, places to be alone… He would just have to find new ones. He had the nose for it.
The armor protested as he finally squeezed himself inside. Turnin
