Rawn ate some stolen food while he waited in the grove of dead trees where he and Rayne always met after a raid. Dusk sent long fingers of darkness creeping into the copse, bringing with it a growing fear for his sister. His imagination conjured visions of her caught or injured, alone and frightened, somewhere in a ruined city filled with pitfalls that could kill even a street-smart girl.
Rawn racked his brains for a plausible plan of action. If he went after her, he could be caught too, and he wanted to be here if she did make it back. He had to do something, though. The inactivity frustrated and angered him. She could be fighting for her life while he procrastinated, but the task was enough to make anyone pause. Even if he knew where to look, there were many hiding places in the ruins. If she had been captured, his chances of rescuing her were slim to nil, but he still had to try.
Rawn gathered up the stolen food and stuffed what he could easily carry into his pockets. He stashed the rest under a rock and stamped out the fire, then jogged towards the city. Without a gun, traversing the city at night would have been suicide, but the sight of it on his hip would deter most would-be attackers. He navigated the ruins with confidence only an armed raider would display, alert for the scuttling of vagabond gangs in the gloom.