Laszlo lurches through the gates as the guard bells sound around town. An arrow clatters off the cobblestone by his ankle. The pain from his belly has subsided to a twinge that comes with each breath, already his flesh has sealed around the arrow. He can feel the light of the nearly full moon burning into his skin now, and sees the rash beginning to form on his exposed arm, tiny red welts that would soon sprout fur. The throbbing behind his eyes threatens to drown out all his thoughts.<br/><br/>He pulls Anethrial into the shadows outside the gates, and concentrates, drawing the deepest breathes he dares without reopening the arrow wound. He waves his hand, and a crude facsimile of the two appear in the moonlight, dashing away across the plains disappearing into a wheat field. Moments later a cadre of guards rushes out after them. He focuses on the illusions, visualizing their flight through the wheat field, focusing on anything but the adrenaline rush of the Change that was sweeping over him. Gradually it fades, but the pain in his gut remains, each twinge rhythmically escalating the throbbing in his head. He needs to get to a hideout and remove the arrow before he loses it again. Laszlo waits, ears pricked, breathing stifled to a wheeze. He can hear no other pursuers for the moment. He looks at the angel for a moment, she is resting a hand on him, and her gleaming eyes are full of concern. It's time to cut her loose before they both end up dead.<br/><br/>"I know a place to hole up," he coughs and then winces as he feels the arrow shift. His voice is hoarse from nearly Changing.<br/><br/>"I'm going to scope it out," he lets go of Anethrial, "I'll fetch you if it's safe. Stay here."<br/><br/>The guards will find the girl eventually, and after everything that happened he doubts they will suspect her role in the heist. He starts off along the outside wall. It wouldn't be far. Then he could sleep, and eat, and come morning, put as much distance as possible between himself and this botched burglary as possible.