It was all a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, really.
Her patrol had just ended, and she had turned to return to Shieldwyrm when the cart axle broke and the cry rang out. The gate guards tended to the driver and his cart and many of the bystanders scattered to claim their prize at the man’s behest, and it was all Siana could do to promise that she would keep an eye out for the birds.
When one trotted past her on her way back to the Commoner’s, darting from one alley to another, she closed her eyes and sighed. On her honor, she had to keep her promise and see to it that this creature found its way back to the merchant, so she turned and followed the cockatrice.
Faram, but she had more important tasks to see to than this.
The EKP offices were just down the street and around the corner. Accordingly, D.I. Thornton had paused right there for a cup of coffee on his way from one job to another. Standing in the street, Bram’s head panned steadily from left to right as he saw an extremely large, spherical bird go rolling furiously down the street with one of his officers in exasperated pursuit.
He watched them go, one eyebrow raised as they disappeared around another turn.
Shaking his head, Bram drained the rest of his coffee and tossed the container into the nearest trashcan. Breaks were never truly breaks anymore.
He then broke into a jog, trailing the mismatched pair into the warren of cobblestoned alleys. “Banes,” he called as he caught up to the woman, where she stood eyeing her prey. “What’s going on?”
Siana bit back the words: Damn merchant can’t keep his stock in order and has us on a wild goose chase to clean up after him. Instead she pursed her lips and regarded the detective inspector with a nod.
“A man from the Outlands had a minor accident,” she reported, “and these…” She bit back a less professional word. “... creatures escaped from his crates. There are over two dozen of them loose in the city.”
And wreaking havoc, she noted as the cockatrice bowled over a food cart as it darted to the next alleyway over. Siana sighed a long suffering sigh. EKP was short for “Keeper of Peace,” and damn it all if chasing birds was now part of the job.
“A minor accident.” He repeated the words flatly, weighing them on his tongue. But then there was the sound of another disastrous crash as it barreled through something in the other alley – a woman yelped in the distance and then scurried past with an armful of her laundry, shooting the pair of officers a glare.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” the citizen asked, her hands tightening on her basket. Bram and Siana exchanged looks. Is this really happening? he seemed to ask, silently, and half a decade of experience with the woman meant he read the corresponding flicker of expression on her face, the merest shrug of the shoulders.
It was something to do, and it kept him busy, and that was the best Bram could ask for.
So: “Corner it,” he said, bending his knees slightly, before bounding upwards and leaping to the rooftops above them, disappearing in a flash of his coat.