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"Not so fast," I say, stepping on the bit of fabric I see trailing on the stone floor. The target goes toppling forward, landing with a thud and a strangled cry.
A high-pitched cry, actually.
It's a woman, that much is clear.
I have to give her credit. She doesn't give up easily. She starts trying to crawl using her elbows all the while kicking at me
with her legs.
I crouch low, pinning more and more of the fabric from her skirt to the ground. In our skirmish, she turns over to try and push me off, but that gives me the ability to grab her wrists firmly and press them into the stone beneath us.
My eyes adjusted to the low light of the hallway around us.
Her breath is labored.
Her hair is dark.
And her eyes are a beautiful hazel.
They are a color I haven't seen in over a decade, but it is one so beautiful I never could forget it.
She stills as I straddle her. Our eyes meet.
"Raven?"
