His legs and feet were cold and stiff, ankle sore, but it warmed as he moved. He took breaths of the chill air in whooping lungfuls, exhaled clouds of white smoke as he kept moving. He thought about shouting at people to clear the way, but didn’t want his pursuers to hear him. Could he lose them in the crowd? No chance—he was tall and his red hair stuck up in spikes. Looked awesome, but not so discreet.