Neena wasn't able to continue any further communication with the boy. Violence broke out somewhere in the crowd, behind her vision of simlahs and robes, and suddenly the step of a man shoved his back into her shoulder. A small girl, yet strong, the push sent her wobbling a few steps, but her legs rescued her and kept her upright. It took only a single knock off balance and a sweeping glance of the angry faces around her to realise that this place was the last place she needed to be.
She had seen mobs before. Seen how the anger of one could infect so many around them. Seen how, like a disease, the wrath could spread until reason and ration were no longer a part of the human psyche.
And she was a very foreign face standing in amongst a crowd of xenophobic Judeans, witnessing their rise of temper.
This was not the place for her to be.
With a quick and economical movement, Neena pulled the sheath of her mitpahath into place to cover the majority of he face and then used her speed and agility to dart away into the crowd like a dark shadow between the figures of the protestors. She did not meet anyone's eye, did not attempt to speak with anyone. She did not bid goodbye to the boy who had been approaching her with such anger. Instead, she sought the safety of an open alleyway and continued to walk with a speed that would see her away from the violence, without drawing attention her way.
One thing was for certain about living on the streets... the best way to survive, was to know when to duck out of the craziness and save your own skin...
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