Gideon hit the floor at the same time as Lore, but only Lore was still breathing.

    *    *    *
    “Again, your words have a hollow ring to them.  You said that you did not murder.”
    “Special circumstances.”
    “What circumstances qualify as ‘special’, making murder permissible?”
    “If life is…threatened.”
    “You had disarmed your father, he posed no threat.”
    “I-I know.”
    “So why did you do it?”
    *    *    *

    “Ahhh…ahhh…ugh, in my hair?”
    Quin couldn’t find a clean surface to wipe the blood off his hands.  There was blood splattered on the walls, the floor, and dripping from ceiling.  At last, he braved a cupboard, smearing blood on the handle.  He was rewarded with a pile of Gideon’s “clean” shirts, which meant that they didn’t stick to you.  He used Gideon’s shirts to wipe Gideon’s blood off himself, while Lore was violently sick behind him.
    This was sticky. They had no time.
    Lore was only dry heaving at this point, on her hands and knees.  Quin grabbed some of Lore’s clothes from her dresser, careful not to let any blood from the ceiling drip onto them.
    He put a hand on Lore’s shoulder, where there wasn’t any blood.
    “Lore, we-“
    “-magic’s back.” She lifted a hand, moving it slowly in a circle, reminding Quin of the wooden sword.
    “Yes, okay,” he wiped blood off her face with Gideon’s shirt, “We’re leaving, quickly please.”
    She stood on her own, and he led her out through the shattered doorway. It was a dark, moonless night.  It was also disturbingly quiet, except for the slush of their boots through melting snow. Quin pulled Lore after him, trying to avoid any fresh snow that would leave tracks.  Shortly, he stopped them in an alley between two crumbling warehouses.
    “I should’ve…s-stayed,” Lore said uncertainly.  She made quite an imposing sight, towering over Quin, stained with blood in erratic patterns from head to toe.
    “No.  Your father was an abusive son of a bitch who got what was coming to him from you just a little earlier than he would have from me. And-and… there were mitigating circumstances-”
    “-A…t-trial-“
    “No! There were mitigating circumstances, and things that happened that we don’t understand, and special things that would not be taken into consideration by the thugs Tivo would send to rape, torture, and kill you while you were waiting in jail for a trial!” Quin desperately wanted to yell, but he was forced to whisper furiously instead.
    Lore leaned against the brick building, losing herself in thought. Quin soaked one of Gideon’s shirts in snow-slush, and used it to clean off Lorrie’s hands.  She didn’t protest when he pulled her bloody sweater and shirt off her. Only when he unbuckled her belt, and she was left standing in the freezing snow wearing nothing but her underclothes did she come out of her thoughts.
    Now, blushing crimson, she was adorable, in stark contrast to the bloody monster she had been moments before, and Quin couldn’t help but kiss her before he gave her the clothes he had grabbed.  She turned away from him as she began dressing.
    “Lore…didn’t you cut your back on your nightstand?”
    “Y-Yes.”
    “Where?”
    Her hand moved up and down her bare back, but there were no injuries to be found.  Quin winced. She was far too flexible.
    “Lore, we’re getting out of here. We’re escaping, and you have no say in the matter.  You’ll have time to think about everything once you’re safe somewhere else,” he told her.
    “R-ready,” she replied, surprising him.  She was wearing a thick winter coat with a cap, and matching pants.
    “Well, lean backwards then,” he told her.
    She did, and stumbled when the wall gave out.  Upon further inspection, it was just a door overgrown with enough moss to make it appear like the rest of the wall.
    Quin fumbled in the dark for a moment before the light of a candle revealed the three old men, Hratli, Ormus, and Meshif, sleeping in the small part of the room not filled to the ceiling with firewood.  They shared only a single a blanket, as usual, and they were squabbling over it even in their sleep. A fight Meshif, clutching only the smallest corner of the blanket, was clearly losing.
    “Up! Up! Get up you worthless lumps!” Quin shouted at them.
    “No-No seagulls!” Meshif yelled back at him, attempting to fend off the invisible birds as he awoke.  Ormus rubbed his eyes blearily, looked from Lore to Quin, and pushed Hratli, who was still sound asleep.
    “I shouldn’t have told you about the seagull’s vicious habits before bed,” said Ormus.
    “Someone better have died, for you to be waking me,” threatened Hratli as Ormus pushed him.
    “Someone has,” Quin announced dramatically.
    “Here now, who’s he?” asked Hratli.
    “Dunno, came in with Lore, can’t be that bad, unless he killed her and that’s a fake. He did say someone died,” Meshif mused suspiciously.
    “That’s what too many mystery stories will do you for, they’re rottin’ your brain I say!” accused Hratli.
    “It’s Quin! There’s Lore! And you are bunch of daft old men whose help she desperately needs on this god-forsaken night!”
    “Eh? Well what’s wrong with her? Looks okay to me!”
    “She does now. Outside your door is a pile of clothes covered in Gideon’s blood.”
    A sobering silence came over the old men. It lasted almost three seconds.
    “He had it coming,” grumbled Hratli.  Lore paled.
    “Wasn’t fit to raise a child, I say,” added Ormus.
    “Turned him mean, Laura dyin-“
    “-S-stop,” Lore finally interjected, looking nauseous.
    “Sorry, Lore,” Meshif had the decency to look embarrassed, if only for a moment, “You got a rough lot.”
    “Okay, yes. Everyone feels sorry for Lore, but we need some horses.”
    “Won’t get far on horses, they got wolves,” said Hratli.
    “Wolves?” asked Ormus incredulously, “You mean hounds.  Anyhow, horses are still faster.”
    “Maybe. Maybe it was hounds as big as wolves.  They’re magic, anyhow. Run faster than horses and never sleep or eat, except in the case of catching their prey of course.”
    “Yeah, what a fair trial that would be. No horses…how about secret underground passages?”
    “Not that…uh…” Meshif peered around behind a pile of wood in case someone had put in a secret passage without telling him.
    “Nope.”
    “An airship then.”
    “You have an airship? Well why-“
    “No! We’ll just hide on one long enough to get away from this town without leaving a trail for those horrible wolfdog bloodhound abominations.”
    “The seagull swarms’ll make a lunch of-“ Meshif ducked under the rock Hratli had thrown at him.

    *    *    *
    “Why did your wounds vanish?”
    “Don’t…know.”
    “I do.”
    *    *    *

    “Can’t she just magic you on?”
    Quin peered over the edge of the rooftop at the single guard pretending to be alert in front of a huge airship.  Quin, Lore, and Meshif admired the airship’s swooping steel structure from the snow-covered roof of one of the many squat buildings surrounding the airship-landing pad.
“No, she can’t magic us on. Airships take a lot of magic to maintain; they can spare a bit for some Anti Magicking Runaways Onto The…no?” Lore was shaking her head.
    “Teleportation…a myth.”
    “No way. I read about some big shot mage who broke in to steal this magic robe and they had the place surrounded and he escaped by teleporting away.”
    Lore grimaced, “F-Forgot…his legs.”
    “Ah. For god’s sake Meshif get down!”
    “Don’t wanna get wet.”
    “I’ve seen you sleep in the snow! Get down and freeze or get stabbed, if not by the guards who see you, then by me!” Quin whispered frantically. He turned to Lore.
“How long is thing gonna be here? If it’s not leaving by tomorrow, we’ll need to find another way.”
    “Powered…but tethered.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Our w-wizards…recharged…held until they pay,” said Lore, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
    “Okay, good. Soon as they pay up their tab, we’ll be out of here. Meshif, how long until-”
    A boulder on the edge of the airship’s landing pad shattered, filling the air with fist-sized chunks of rock.  Lore rolled on top of Quin, shielding him. A couple rocks thudded into her back, and one struck her forehead.
    “Damnit, Lore you didn’t-oh god your head, lay down. Meshif?” Quin rolled Lore off, kneeling over her.  There was a gash above her right eyebrow.  Meshif appeared at his side.
    “I musta dodged all them rocks with my quick youthful reflexes,” said Meshif.  Quin grabbed his shirt.
    “That was the worst distraction! If Lore-“
    “B-back…” she groaned.
    “Oh man, her back-oh those rocks were huge!” Quin tore part of Meshif’s shirt right off him, and used it to wipe the blood trickling into Lore’s eye.
    “Ah-ah…“ Lore drew a sharp breath and arched her back.  There was a chain of terrible popping noises, each accompanied by a gasp or a cry from Lore, before she relaxed.
    Thinking she was unconscious, Quin turned to Meshif.
     “Oh Meshif I am going to tear-“
“No! It wasn’t us!” Meshif pointed frantically.  Quin turned in time to see the guard hurrying past Ormus and Hratli, each playing the flute.  The guard ignored them completely in his haste investigate the remains of the exploded boulder.
His advance was stopped by a familiar hand on his shoulder.  Lore had sat upright. The gash above her eye had all but faded away, though still surrounded by wet blood.