He looked down. The guards had heard nothing over the steady patter of rain, and all but one had retreated into the guard house. The last stood in the center of the road, hunched and miserable.
Pasha pulled one hand free. Warm blood streamed down his fingers and forearms to drip off his elbow. He reached as high as he could, finding a little more space in the gap. He pulled himself up, wrist twisted, biting his tongue against a scream of agony while he pushed with his foot against the wet wood until he could do the same thing with his other hand. And again, ignoring the pain, focused on the rivulets of rain running down rough pine, until he was dragging himself to the top and looking over it into the city of Eheene.
Bland, stone warehouses lined the wall on the city side. Pasha jumped do
