Strelitzia stood on the edge of the rooftop, the night breeze ruffling her hair as she watched Fetu leap down onto the pavement below. They weren't high enough for the landing to hurt, but he certainly held a grace in his movements that hinted at a lifetime of navigating treacherous heights long before she'd met him at Colton's slave plantation.
Strelitzia dropped to the ground behind him.
Together, they entered the tavern. The quiet of the rooftop was long gone, replaced with the lively sounds of drunkards and the poor singing their arrows away as they cheerily drowned ale. The warm amber glow of lanterns bathed the large open space of the tavern in a soft light, casting playful shadows across the wooden beams and floors. Laughter and chattering filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of ale and hearth cooked meals.
