All members had a part to play in the pursuit. Keya’s was literally central. She approached the alley where the shadowed scoundrel had tried to unceremoniously rekill Mr Finger. Her bearing was away from the city limits and toward its centre. The man might go to ground if given a chance; they needed him panicked and scared, or so Master said. She just wanted to test out her new boots.

Athletic yet demure clothing freed her motions, save for a slim backpack. Within it was her rift, under a simple clasped flap. Further, a water tube, ending in a 'nozzil', trailed from the bag to her shoulder. Indeed, 'twas a far more expedient solution than traditional waterskins.

She unhitched clasps on the metal heels of her ponderous boots, and they extended from cylindrical ‘pistons’ along her calf as she lifted each foot. As she treaded forth, they cushioned her steps producing soft 'sighs' with each stride.

It felt as if walking on hay, but smoother and cleaner. The toes of each boot were grounded, giving her purchase and stability, while the arches and heels were raised. The overall design was broadly similar to the elegant high heels Ril had worn on their first acquaintance, but Keya’s were brutish metal and grey plastic abominations—she liked them.

The toe and heel tread was a substance like hardened pitch formed in ridges. Instead of being inflexible, though, it yielded and gripped the cobblestones underfoot.

Master insisted on the protective pads covering her knees and elbows, but her elven balance had adjusted quite quickly to traversing on raised heels.

Readied and assured of her motions, she steeled her senses to spy her quarry. The alley of the 'heinous' deed lay obscured given her angled approach, but she shouted regardless.

“Murderer! There’s been a murder!” Heads on the mostly empty street turned abruptly at her proclamation, but she ignored them for the darkened passage in her sight.

Sure enough, the scoundrel fled the alley at the sound. He turned out only to encounter her some ten yards away.

Keya bore down upon him knowingly; her countenance was surely quite a sight: strange bulbous boots, padded limbs, and her visor with lights flitting upon the glass. In the flitting candlelight of early evening, she faced off against an elven assassin.

He produced a sharp gasp in dismay and scrambled the other way almost immediately.

Keya felt her chest hitch with furore and gave chase.

“Okay,” said Master’s voice in her ear. “Start gradually; we’re trying to box him in, not catch him. Run on the toes and land on the heels, like we practised.”

Her pace was slow at first. The boots encumbered her initial advance, but she felt them capture the exertion of each stride. As she loped, they released a kick with each step: not much, just enough that keeping pace required less effort.

The bowman ran ahead, taking a corner left, and she followed at a leisurely pace—for her at least. The boots gripped the cobblestones like soot on a kettle.

Each bound produced a longer stride, and her limbs casually ate up the distance.

“Very nice. Ril sent me a Cam Fly feed; I got you on screen.”

Through her visor, she did not see the video in question, but a dull, faded line map was floating in a bottom corner of her periphery. She had moved the floating phantasmal sheet around to best suit her preferences. The red dot of her quarry and her green could be seen wading through the greyed transparent page. She felt the thrill of the chase build within her, gods this was fun!

“Let’s try some small jumps.”

They had not the space to do much practice in secret. Some stationery leaps in Bron’s yard was all they could manage. So at first, she remained conservative in the application of this new technique: a light bound on flat cobblestone in a mostly empty street. One push and she sailed about three yards, but height was more critical for this hunt. She used no magic, and the visor registered sixty-one hundredths of Master’s metres of measurement.

It was a comfortable leap for her, more so that the boots took the landing without complaint. She smiled despite the situation. Townsfolk gasped as she flew by.

Streets became busier as they moved closer to the evening market. The bowman took a right and skimmed past an obstructing cart that crossed the path.

“You’ll need a bit of power to clear that. Remember, legs to the side and plant.”

Having jumped tree limbs before; this was little different. As the cart approached, she first leapt with strength alone. Then, just as she cleared the stones, she dumped in a fourth of her magic. Instead of imbued feet alone, she pulled up across the entirety of her aura, lifting her body as one. She felt the extra tug mid-air. The shock made her waver, but she righted and kept balance; branch leaping was a childhood pastime, after all.

The aforementioned empty cart passed under her, and she lightly planted hands on its wooden beams as she drifted over, her feet to the side. The driver let out an irksome yell, though she was many paces away ere he could turn to see.

“Sweet, 1.14 metres on that one. Nice plants. Bear left again.” Keya preened, before mercilessly beating the naive emotions aside. Her trial was not yet passed, and there was much to concentrate on. Master's guidance was nevertheless welcome, and the praise a little more so. Keya twitched a grin as she barreled past milling groups.

On the map, she saw her cohorts shadowing left and right in parallel paths slowly herding the culprit. Perhaps the bowman had yet spotted neither, for he only glanced perilously back at her. I cannot blame him.

Glimpsing the perpetrator through crowds and carts, she saw him call upon guards ahead. “I’m being chased! Stop her!”

He ran between them before they could react, but they would assuredly obstruct her.

Keya grimaced, but another voice commanded. “Get the runner! Forget the girl!” ‘Twas Nym of Sepha’s charge on horseback. Naturally, Faelyn-sun and Sepha-sun were on hand, if only in the shadows. They cast the wider unseen net.

Confused and flustered by the commotion, the guards dallied; they would yet halt her, even if unintentionally.

And I would like to see them try. A more vigorous leap and pull sent her up on approach. She cleared their helmets without even needing hand plants. Lack of mid-air purchase made her flail until she inadvertently used magic once more. Blanketed in her power, she adjusted and stabilised mid-flight with minute pulls and prods.

“A solid 1.74 metres, wow!”

“Aah! My gorgeous Kay!” Ril was incorrigible.

The guards let out bewildered yelps, but Kay was over six yards away before even touching the ground. Toes grasped the worn stones tentatively and then momentum favoured the heels as her weight followed. A slate slab cracked and crunched underfoot. The fall arrested and with its power stowed, she leaned onward: the sprung metal creaked and then launched her into an advancing sprint.

That one could store the power of motion so, beggared belief. Keya would think it a fictive tale were she not wearing the Gods damned things herself.

Further terrified glimpses from the man, indicated his accession. He undoubtedly realised he could not outrun her, so they rushed on into busier streets as they reached closer to the city centre. The wily man was yet to be outdone.

Kay spied a stone and wrought iron palisade ahead of him. It spanned between the massive trunks of Elgelica’s ferns, and there was but one heavy wooden door in its centre. He rushed through and grabbed the inner locking beam as he swung it shut.

Curses, she blew out a frustrated huff.

“That’s good enough Kay. Either Ril or I will tail him from the other side.”

However, it was not good enough for Keya; she did not slow but sped forth.

“Kaaay?” Master cautioned.

This time she leapt with all her might, aiming for a stone pillar to scramble up if need be. She dumped all her power as she left the ground and burst beyond like an arrow loosed through the air.

She… soared, onlookers screamed or stared mortified; children gazed on in wonder. All could be witnessed, for there was plenty time to contemplate her folly. The numbers on her visor passed three, her heartbeat raced, and the world almost slowed. Liberated of the solemn earth and its weighty humdrum, she floated in the air for precious seconds. Tales will be told of what they saw this night, and they will be of me.

“Double Jump, Baby!” came Master’s cheer, despite his earlier admonition.

There was a garbled mash of exclamations in her ears. Giggles, cursing, and awe came through the headphones and from nearby.

Now to land. The palisade’s paltry obstruction lay past and forgotten. On the other side, she spied a yard.

The chased man peered up awestruck, his hood falling away: a long-haired blond elf. Sense rapidly returning; he rushed for an exit.

There was flat ground in view, but her arc did not take her there. Instead, a heap of hay met her limbs, and she covered her face as she fell deep into the light brown turf. Grunting as she came to a stop, it took her some moments to extricate herself. If only I hit the cobblestones!

“Ja, hay’s not that fun.” How did Master have all this time to talk was he not chasing too? She saw his blue dot on the map; sure enough, it was keeping pace.

She rushed through the door, out of a shop, and into the street. It bustled with a crowd of people. The map indicated a red dot ahead, but she could not spy him with her eyes.

“I cannot move quickly through this crowd.” Were she to bound through these people with her boots, she was sure to bound through someone.

Jon replied, “Roger, go as fast as you can. Over”

Watching the red dot, it suddenly split in two.

Lee spoke up. “The trackers have split. Ril: Red 2. Kel: Red 1. Kay, bring up the rear. Over.”

In the tight grouping of the crowd, one of the trackers must have torn free, both however moved. Unanimous affirmations reached her ears.

Kay received a wealth stares from the evening bustlers. Covered in hay and her arcane garb, she could expect no less. Ignoring them, she pushed into the crowd. Meanwhile, the others would harry the prey in her stead.