The alley stank of rain that had long since dried into grime.
Nhel noticed it first—the way the air shifted. Not wind, not sound exactly. Just a pressure, like something watching too closely.
He slowed.
Anisha didn't.
"You feel that?" he asked under his breath.
She kept walking, boots scraping against broken pavement. "If you're about to say something dramatic, save it."
"That's not—"
A bottle shattered somewhere behind them.
They both stopped.
Silence followed, thick and waiting.
Then footsteps.
Not one. Not two.
Many.
Anisha exhaled slowly, eyes closing for half a second like she was counting. When she opened them again, the softness was gone. "How many?"
Nhel tilted his head slightly, listening. "At least eight. Maybe more."
"Great," she muttered. "I was starting to think today would be boring."
They turned at the same time.
