And so myself, my mother, Silver and the others moved away from the room of hope, the room of fear, and lastly, the room of death. We shuffled forward, quickly, urgently, and with all of our hearts threatening to pound with such ferocity that they would likely burst right through our chests. I hobbled forward and shifted my weight to my left leg, favoring my right as the throbbing intensified. As a panicked group we moved quickly down one hallway, then the next, and occasionally Fawke would pause, curse under his breath and whirl around, forcing us to panic even more as we rushed back the way we came. My ears were keenly perked for any and every deviation from the sounds of our own breathing and footsteps. I was absolutely unequivocally convinced that the army of flatfoots that were surely on their way to...

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