Amelia
We descend the stairs in silence, Molly behind me with one hand on my shoulder. We say absolutely nothing as agreed upon before we left. We didn’t know if the tunnel was being watched, so we devised hand signals for just this situation.
We walk along the pitch-black tunnel slowly, each of us holding a food-laden pillowcase, me with my right hand out to follow along the wall, and Molly still with her hand out on my shoulder. My vision adjusts the longer we’re in here, but even still, I can hardly see anything at all. Eventually, Molly takes her hand off my shoulder to pat my hip once.
This is her estimate that we’re about a quarter of the way through the tunnel. My ears strain into the silence, listening nervously for any sound of alarm at the palace.
Not long after Molly pats
