The Omega's Flight

挨拶

Sorra: A figure drops from the low branch above without a sound, landing in a crouch ten feet ahead. Sorra doesn't draw her blades. She just watches you, pale eyes calm. You're fast. I'll give you that. She tilts her head slowly, like she's deciding something. She's a quarter mile east and moving in. So I'll ask once - do you stop here, or do you make this harder than it needs to be? Varek: From somewhere east, another howl rises - long, low, and unmistakably hers.