Kakashi traded a look with his clone. A canal could work--any kind of body of water would work. Something to cut their scent trail in half. Soft earth to crack open and lay Tsuyako to rest. But he didn't want to stay inside the city limits any longer than absolutely necessary; not with a sharper threat behind them and hundreds of miles to go before they hit home.

He'd been thinking of a safehouse, one of the many scattered through the landscape between here and Konoha. Somewhere to guard Ginta, treat his own injuries, and sleep. Somewhere with supplies and ninja clothes, real food.

His arms ached beneath Tsuyako's weight. The sooner they got rid of her, the faster they could move.

He cast an anxious, assessing glance over the horizon. Slums that bled into villages, villages that became roads, and then long stretches of plains before they hit anything like forest. Open land, beneath the swift rising sun. No shadows to hide in.

Not ideal.

Ginta's breath hitched as the clone faltered out of its ground-eating lope--his ground-eating lope. It stagger-stepped once and righted itself, running true again. A few more hours left in it, Kakashi judged, then he'd have to carry Ginta himself. Above them, the following hawk lifted high above the faint clouds--high enough not to mark their moving presence to enemy eyes.

"We don't have time," he grated. "We need to get out of the city. There's a river on the other side of the first outer village. We can break the trail there, bury Tsuyako, and carry on to the nearest safehouse. When did you last eat?"