I rush into the little tavern with the girl in my arms.
The place is close enough that I don't have to run for long, maybe a hundred and sixty feet from the street where I found her, but every step through the mud feels too long with her limp weight against me.
The Horizon Armor covers her body like a makeshift blanket, hiding what the street tried to turn into a spectacle. Her breathing is still there, weak, uneven, but there. For now, that's all that matters.
The tavern is packed.
Travelers, laborers, Divers, and Drowneds fill separate tables, as if someone had drawn invisible borders between groups that share the same roof. They don't mix and they don't talk to each other. Still, they do one thing together the instant I step inside.
They all look at me.
