faster than eb

We ran, and the cornerhounds followed us.
I wasn’t sure how many of them had taken up our trail. It was more than half a dozen, but fewer than twenty. They made oddly light-sounding skittering noises and created small clouds of sparks when they moved on concrete, the result of those steel-hard claws striking the ground. They clung to the sides of buildings like giant spiders, those same talons biting into brick and concrete, easily supporting their weight.
I took us down the alley, in the direction opposite the one where I’d tossed the first cornerhound, across the street, a slight jog, and then down the alley beyond.
“They aren’t following real close,” I noted. All the cardio lately was standing me in good stead now. My heart was working and I was breathing hard and I barely noticed.
“They know we’re dangerous,” the old man panted. “They aren’t used to dealing with our reality, or with beings that can actually hurt them. Makes them hesitate.”
“Here,” I said, and turned into the opening of a parking garage, weaving around the wooden arm that would swing up to allow cars in. I slowed down enough to let the old man catch up to me. He wasn’t covering the ground as easy as I was.


Peace Talks Chapter 12, Page 95