Meryn swayed on her feet, disoriented. And [i]tired[/i]. But then was that really a surprise after the day she'd had? She'd barely had time to glance around the tower's interior though, when a voice cracked through the air. Heart in her throat, Meryn spun to see an unimpressed, unimpressive old man holding a book like he meant to club her with it. But then he saw her mask.

[i]Spook[/i]. 

He knew Spook. He had answers. He'd know what to do. 

A flash of movement above caught her eye though and Meryn looked up to see the dreams of the three runners getting closer. Right. She was being chased. People were shooting at her. She'd just lead someone to his [i]death[/i] after losing her friends and Spook and bringing a fatal disease to a town and now people were actively trying to kill her, she didn't have [i]time[/i] to explain to him, to tell him how dangerous the situation was –

But… but maybe she could. Meryn ripped off the mask.

Standing before him was a girl with wide, pale eyes. There were speckles of dried blood on her face, though it was impossible to tell if it was hers or not. Her hair was a long black mess, an unraveling braid only held together by knots and tangles. Her bare clothes – a frayed undershirt with a thick dark stain near her waist where it stuck to her skin, and a pair of pants with one leg ripped off below the knee – hung on her stunted frame after a childhood of too little to eat. She was a mess of dirt, sweat, and blood, her urgency electrifying the air with every frantic breath she took.

Meryn darted forward, mask in hand. She thrust it up to the man's face, nearly hitting his nose, the eye holes as accurate as she could get them. He'd see her dreams. She hoped. Would he know what they meant? Would he know she was [i]terrified[/i]?

Every muscle was tense as she held the mask in a quivering hand, heavy breaths pushing her chest up and down. She could only stare at the old man through the eyes of the mask as her teeth bit into her lower lip and her eyebrows pulled together. 

There was [i]thump[/i] on the roof of the bell tower. It was followed by two more. Meryn jumped back, glancing up. She was out of time. She could barely hear over the thundering in her ears as she dove for the closest hiding spot she could find: the shadowed corner directly under the spiraling staircase. She gripped Oliver's bell when it chimed with her movement. Meryn pressed herself into a tiny ball, tired muscles aching for rest. There was a pounding in her head. She couldn't keep this pace. She couldn't keep going like this. 

A runner hit the first step on the stairs. 

Meryn pressed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw. She'd get through this. She [i]had[/i] to get through this. Her hands were balled so tightly that they shook with the strain. 

The second runner entered. 

She pulled Spook's mask back over her face and opened her eyes again. She forced out a silent, quivering breath. Her eyes were trained on her old boot, like she was afraid to face whatever was coming for her.

The third.

Meryn finally looked up to see… the delivery guy? She blinked.

There was no doubt: those were his dreams she could see through the wall. But they looked… ok? Certainly less lifeless than they'd been when he'd fallen. Heck, they looked even better than they'd been [i]before[/i] that. And from their position they even looked like he was [i]standing[/i] rather than laying flat, leaking on the ground.

The runners' quick steps reverberated down the staircase to Meryn's hiding spot.

The crumpled letter that had been in her bag lay where it'd fallen on the ground at the foot of the stairs, unnoticed.