He handed her a small pouch on a thick leather cord. "Whatever you do, don't lose it."

Tucking the pouch into her satchel, she mounted a chestnut stallion, gently stamping it's hooves on the stone path in impatience.

"Have you finished yammering yet?" The horse whinnied, looking more amused than annoyed. "If we stay any longer, the guards will find us and probably kill us. No pressure." 

She ignored the horse and flicked the reins gently. "Don't slip, or we're dead."

Then they were gone without a backwards glance.

The man stood there as rain started to fall, looking for any sign of the flickering torches that indicated guards running after the rider in a fruitless chase. 

But no guards came...