[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]
Tremors worked their way from her sweaty palms to each of her slender fingers. No matter how she stood—arms crossed in front of her chest, hands gripping the sides of her skirt—she couldn’t shake the jitters that wrecked her body and mind.
But her purpose was more important than any fear she might be feeling. This small piece of knowledge she had at her disposal, this tiny tidbit of information she gleaned from all her years of eavesdropping practice as an anthropologist was nothing compared to the grand scheme of things.
And for the safety of her little boy somehow caught in the crossfires of the Lions and the Marauders, she would do anything.
Even betray her own by speaking with the Guard.