Helona took a fake swig from the empty whiskey bottle in her hand, careful not to touch her lips to it. Just because she’d rented the vagrant’s clothes didn’t mean she wanted to share germs with him. She knew she reeked of a mix of alcohol, urine, and feces, so at least no one would get close enough to her to see through her disguise.
The thick paper bag that had held the bottle covered the end of her spear, and she limped and shuffled, leaning on the spear handle, as she read the tracks in the unpaved areas around the warehouse. There had been no rain there for several months, and few people.
