Swift as the Wind - Part 8

It was late, beyond the middle of the night, and only an hour or two before dawn, but the creaking of floorboards was unmistakable. The banging of boots would have been one thing – a drunken customer turning himself in for the night – but the creeping, as the individual tried to muffle the sound of his steps, that was a cause for interest.

Vol rose, as quietly as he could. His own boots were removed, so he had an easier time of it than the man in the hallway. Each step was taken with the utmost care, until his eye was pressed up against the keyhole of his room's lock, staring out into the hallway.

By the light of a fading candle, he spied a shadow, just as he reached the stairs. But that was all the information that he could manage.

"What intrigue," Pandora said, resting her chin on his shoulder.