Bus to Babylon

Jansa could smell it as she stepped off the bus.

Frankincense. Myrrh.

The smells of her childhood in Babylon. She closed her eyes and a tear formed before she could prevent it from happening. There was a dull ache of home that clinched in her gut. Pushing her hands in to the pockets of her coat, Jansa tried hard to push the thoughts away as she focused on getting the attention of the werewolf that was tailing her. A flash of fur out of the corner of her eye told her that he’d taken the bait.

Time for work.

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