It seemed everyone else was as keen as her to be out of the downpour, because soon she found that she was one of the only people out and about. The realisation sent uneasiness skittering down her spine. She entered the Poor Quarters – as signalled by the narrower streets, cracked cobblestones and sky-high piles of rubbish everywhere – and it was with relief that she arrived at the disgusting disembodied pig’s head sign of her inn.