As Ebonshield yet again clung to a stalactite, the three Hatcheteers passed back beneath her, but she was only twenty hooves down the storehouse hallway, and still within sight of the two Stars who took up positions flanking the entrance. Slowly, laboriously, whenever the opportunity arose, she picked her way from hanging rock to hanging rock, in just the same manner as she’d come in; waiting for moments when the guards were lost in conversation, or when their backs were turned to her in another patrol. This was harder now that there were no visiting Rocks and Dust with cargo to store or retrieve, and the guards looked up at the ceiling, of course, but only occasionally, and always they missed her form, hidden in the busy ceiling above. 