Lucky for them both, sharpening knives was his hobby. Sharpening her again would be even easier.
Their nearly silent footsteps were almost in unison, hers creating just the slightest echo to his own against the stone wall. He enjoyed the practically nonexistent sound, but it was mostly in his foremost assessment for the sake of judging her distance in comparison to his. She wasn’t too far behind, but there was a decent distance, and Kalt found himself wondering why Ashetta wasn’t working to close the distance even a bit.
Well, he soon found out.
There was a sharp thunk against his shoulder, and he winced as the feeling of a throwing knife lodged itself in his tunic and partially into his skin. He was grateful it hadn’t gone deeper or he’d have had to pay it more attention.
Kalt didn’t even slow his sprint, pain being an old friend of his. He kept moving as though there wasn’t a knife in the back of his shoulder, as he used his magic to remove the knife and drop it to the wall with a clang. That sound rang out in the silence of the night as one of the louder noises in their entire encounter.
Part of him wanted to speak to her, taunt her, but he knew it wasn’t time. She would recognize his voice, and it wasn’t quite time for that yet. She wasn’t ready; neither was he, though he might have tried to deny it.
Kalt jumped off the wall onto a low balcony, swinging his legs over the rail and pulling himself smoothly onto the roof of the building. He paused for just a moment, checking to see that she was following, then picked up his sprint again.
The end of the ruins was in sight, the building he had scratched his message into only a few turns away, but part of him didn’t want the chase to end. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, and he didn’t want to give it up, even though keeping a constant sprint the entire time was becoming a bit more difficult by now. He’d run for longer before though, so he wasn’t about to slow. Besides, he couldn’t make the chase too easy for Ashe.
