Nora swiped her sodden hair out of her eyes. The rain was so heavy that she was soaked to the bone; rivulets of water slid down her face and neck. The chill made her fingers tremble. Or maybe it was the fact that she had lost the message.

She darted back down the alleyway for the third (or was it the fourth?) time, scanning the ground for a sopping slip of paper. Her heart was pounding. How could I have lost it?!

***

"Okay, Lucky, we have you a stack of deliveries."

"Sounds good, Button," she grinned at the fellow rebel, taking the pile of papers. Each was folded neatly with a miniscule word written on each one's upper-left corner. Goat, Cheese, Buckets, Dimple, Mutton Chop, all code words for delivery points, "Where's 'Buckets'? I don't remember that one."

"Oh, it's up in the Painted Ladies. A couple doors down from Ducky. You'll know it when you see it," Button said with a laugh, as if he knew something she didn't, "But be careful when you take the one to Dimple. There's been a lot of uncles up there last coupl'a weeks."

"Will do."

***

Where did it go? She was beginning to panic, I had it! I had it just a moment ago! It was in my hand just before-- before...

She felt a chill go down her spine that couldn't be accounted for by the freezing rain.

***

She darted out of an alley, with only one note left in her hand. She headed down from the Painted Ladies delivery toward the east side of town. A light flashed in her face, and she raised her arm to shield her eyes.

"You there, halt! What are you doing about at this hour?"

Her heart jumped into her throat, "B-beg pardon?"

"You heard me, wick," she could see that the voice belonged to a middle-aged galdor on blackback, "what are you doing about at this hour?"

"C-coming back from taking care of my grandmother. My cousin just got in, so I don't have to anymore. I'm headed home."

"Show me your papers. You know there's a curfew."

Nora tried not to bite her lip, a sure sign of nervousness, as she fumbled for the phony writs of residence. She pulled them out of her pocket and held them up in the light. She felt them pulled from her fingers.

Her heart pounded as she wondered if they looked authentic enough. She had never had to have them inspected before. It seemed an eternity before she heard him give a small harrumph. The papers were tossed to the ground, “Carry on. Don’t let us catch you out after hours again. This is your only warning, miss.”

“Oh, of course, sir,” she dropped to her knees to collect the writ, “Next time I’ll just stay over till morning. I swear.”

“You had better.”

***

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the papers there, praying to the circle that the note had slipped in among the phony documents. She flipped through them. She went through again. She let out a distressed moan and swung her fist at a crate, sending a jolt through her entire arm.

She winced in pain. Setting off at a run, she raced to the delivery point. What do I do? What do I do?! We’re never supposed to see one another!

She reached the house out of breath, and looked at the back door. She raised her arm to knock, to explain, to say something, but backed down. Pulling out one of her writ sheets, she tore off a corner and pulled out a piece of charcoal from her pack.

She slipped a note under the door that said simply,

Intended message lost. Seek instruction.