[color=BF00BF][h3]Ludmilla Alunya[/h3][/color]

She sat at the side of the road, thumbing through a copy of [i]The Rough Guide to Poland.[/i] Title page, nothing of interest there. Lots of little pictures of mountains and rivers and a few of the picturesque people. Whoever this Mark Salter fellow was, he sure did love that word a lot. Nothing of interest on the next page, either. "If found, please return to South Gloucestershire Library. Last let out: [b]October 19 [/b] to [b]Ludmilla Alunya.[/b]" The ink was thick and blotted all along where the stern librarian had stamped her name in the book, shortly before she left the country. Good times. Maybe if she lived long enough to be in the area again, she'd return them. The spine had cracked and the pages were yellowing and musky, but the books had been a great help for her. She had the whole Western Europe collection, with Rough guides to France, England, Germany, Switzerland, and a couple for the the countries further east all wrapped up and stuffed at the bottom of her rucksack, under the canned food. 

The map. That was the important thing, yes. Danzig, danzig, where was it? She stabbed at it with a finger, triumphantly. And then she looked up, at the bright blue motorway sign. "DANZIG EXIT: 20 MILES" 20 miles wasn't too far. She could walk the rest of the way. And the rough guides never had anything interesting to say about highway exits. She slung the rucksack over her shoulder and started walking along the hard shoulder, idly observing the scenery and wondering in her head what a Rough guide to the Motorways of Europe would look like. [i]"These scenic motorway exits spiraling elegantly off the picturesque Autostrada A4 system are a sight to behold, even on off days. The scenic sight of bustling early morning poles desperate to avoid the rush hour traffic is an edifying one, and you'll have plenty of time to admire the view while in the queue for the rustically charming toll booths, stocked in the traditional manner by attendants clad in their quaint day-glo jackets and levis..."[/i]

Danzig, it turned out, was a large and bustling parade with a town somewhere in the chaos. She'd walked past miles and miles of bumper-to bumper traffic to get in, and even the quiet post-war suburbs were festooned with decorations, wreaths and flags dangling off every apartment balcony. It was almost offputting. But at least she'd be able to slip in quietly. Nobody would care about the blonde with a rucksack and clutching a travel book around here. Maybe she'd be able to pick up on the lingo while she was here. Ludmilla had grown to be good with languages, but the further east you went the more accents and diacritic marks lay in the letters, eager to trip up the unwary foreigner. And there was no way in hell she was going to try to learn Kashubian. It was gonna be her limited, broken German, or her limited broken Russian, and if she really had trouble, she'd point at things and go [color=BF00BF]"Da, Da!"[/color]

Something in her pocket jittered. She thought it might have been her phone for a second, but that was ridiculous. Her phone hadn't been charged since she'd snuck in and slept in the library in Dresden. It was her soul gem, lighting up like a little beacon. She cupped her fingers, keeping the thing hidden as she pocketed it again/. Nobody would gain anything by knowing who she was, especially in the open. But there was a witch somewhere here, in the crowd, tempting people in that sick little seditious way they did things. She'd keep her eyes open, and try to check if anyone with neck tattoos looked a little bit down or angry. She'd have to be careful, people who were naturally pretty sad or angry tended to have neck tattoos. She had to make a speedy exit once out out of a bed and breakfast because what she'd thought was a witch's kiss turned out to be a rolling stones tribute in ink. Boy, was that one hard to explain. But she kept an eye out in the crowd, trying to discretely look at people's necks in the nicest possible way.