They heard the south road before they saw it.
Jin was leading the long, ragged line down through the last streets of the lantern district, with Ho-seok at his shoulder and Jun limping a few steps behind with one arm over old Choi's shoulders. The strangers in their festival masks followed after them, and the four exhausted members of Jun's crew after that. Nobody was talking. They were all listening.
Steel on stone. Shouting. And under it, a sound Jin had been hearing all night and still hadn't gotten used to: the dry, scraping shuffle of the dead.
They came around the last corner and found the fight.
The southern edge of the city ended in a wide, open square where three roads met before running out along the river. It had been a bus stop once. The shelter was still standing at one side, its glass long gone. The square was full of Spades.
