It was rare that Caerus found himself feeling so ill at ease. The sudden awareness that had come over him only moments ago was not leaving him - instead, it heightened, becoming something much more when the shadows seemed to grow. He could see light ahead, the end of the street, but right where he was, where he had to pass through - it seemed much too dark all of a sudden.
It wasn’t right.
He should not be caught like this, and that was exactly how he was beginning to feel - caught. Panic was threatening to sweep over him, and unlike the casual touches that could set it off, he thought perhaps this time, it was justified.
How? He silently asked, looking for his best way out. How could this happen? How? Heart pounding in his chest, Caerus tried to clear his head and focus on the light ahead, on getting away. There was a way, all he had to do was find it.
He went from walking to flat-out running in the space of a few breaths, desperate to outrun whatever was going to come. Caerus was not a fighter, had never won a thing through strength - he won by being hard to catch and harder to hold onto.