As they approached the town, Lira changed into a simple cloak she had packed for just such occasions—something dark and nondescript, meant to blend into shadows. The hood pulled low over her head, she slipped silently from the chariot, carrying only what she needed. Her satchel with plants and seeds was tucked securely under her cloak.
Rose guided the chariot toward the market square, where townsfolk bustled about, voices calling for fabrics, spices, and trinkets. The smell of baked goods and roasted meats filled the air. Lira moved along the streets, staying just out of reach of the main crowd, noting every narrow alley and overhanging balcony she could use to hide if needed.
