The Catacombs

She hurried along moist alleys in the morning mist, gray stones covered with beaded water and lichen, footfalls stealthy on the cobbled walks.  Her hands clutched the tiny, yellowed paper to her chest, hidden in her palm.  She stopped to take a furtive glance behind her, but the dense cloud shrouded the alley’s mouth.  A quick glimpse of the writings before she tucked it safe beside her bosom in the once-elegant, now-ragged bodice.  She hitched the worn, tattered cape farther onto her shoulders and ducked her damp locks beneath the hood.

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