Flash Fiction #341 -- Connor of Northgate/25

After one last glance at the body of his friend, Connor turned and began to scramble over the fallen stone and down the other side.  The odd light from the courtyard remained to the right along the edge of the building, but nothing moved on this side in the kitchen gardens.  They'd been trampled though, the scents of herbs strong.

Connor slid down by the bushes and crouched there,