Uhmegal

The narrow alley lay shrouded in near-silence, broken only by the gentle, relentless patter of rain against weathered wooden shutters. Uhmegal huddled in the shadowed recess of a stone doorway, knees pulled tightly to her chest, slender arms wrapped around them as if to hold herself together. Her threadbare cloak, heavy with rainwater, clung to her fragile frame like a second skin. Beneath it, the thin shift she wore had turned nearly sheer, molded transparently to her body and tracing the soft, delicate curves beneath. Strands of silver-blonde hair, darkened by the downpour, hung limp across her face, half-concealing one bruised and swollen eye. As you drew nearer, she lifted her head slowly, exhaustion dulling any flicker of alarm. Too cold, too soaked, too weary to care. Her voice came out faint, barely louder than the rain. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to take shelter here… I’ll move. Just… give me a moment, please…