After tripping three times in the first set of tunnels, Lina found herself wrapped in the arms of the diploid raver woman, nestled in among her dangling bracelets—the woman Lina had last seen twirling and carefree—who was now clutching Lina to her breast and rushing headlong through tunnels leading to the surface. Mentor was still there, keeping pace and shouting at people to make way for an injured child.
Lina smirked just a little. The injured child was supposed to be her. It was one of the few times that Lina was thankful for her diminutive size. She did her best to look injured, letting her head loll about just a little and making her eyes go unfocused. It worked. People stepped aside, and the trio was not impeded on their way. Not even the soldiers questioned them, though they seemed to be busy looking for someone in the crowd. The rebels who blew a gaping hole in the Queen’s Gala, no doubt.