You Know What They Say, Out of the Frying Pan, Etc.

NaNoWriMo excerpt:

But here they were. Bluesong was panting heavily and feeling a little dizzy—his weekly workouts weren’t very rigorous—but the bridge loomed just ahead through the trees, which had thinned a little as they rounded the inside river bend turning south. A few hundred yards and they’d be safe. Well, that was being laughably optimistic. East of the river was slicer territory, and he didn’t really have a good working knowledge of their range