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"Damnitall, I knew something....." A low voice mutters. Night shadows the infamous streets of Tijuana, and indeed, there is safety in numbers....
"Keep them moving, folks. Stay out of the lights there. Good, good, keep going.... Seniors y senoras, por favor sigue a los animales..... si, si, animales, mira? Mira los... si, bueno, por favor, sigue a los animales.... silencio.... bueno....." The tall blonde directs traffic in a hushed tone.
"Everyone should stay as hidden as they can, but we have to get these folks to some safe houses, and medical care; if we have to risk a little to do it, then we do it. Why? Because the mortal we save could be the Dreamer that saves you!"
The tall woman crouches to meet a little one at eye level. "Oye, bebé ... está bien tener miedo, pero vamos a ayudarte. Quédate con mi amiga la llama, ¿sí?"
"Father V has directions, get with him or use a Wisp to find the safe houses, we need all hands on deck and available. Remember, small groups but for the love of the Dreaming keep the families together."
"No, absolutely not. That's a hard stop, we are -not- 'readdressing' things with the Border Patrol, and if you do it, you may as well stay on that side of the line, and I completely clear? We get people to safety and care and we stay hidden; I'm angry too but this is not a vendetta and it's not going to turn into one on my watch." A fierce hiss, and strained order.
"Any word from the neighboring baronies?" Her blue eyes worried.
"Ask Sir Jack, he's in charge of safety patrols...."
And so on, into the night.... come daybreak, a precious small number of the total have been invisibly evacuated from the crowded stadium and hidden away; the worst wounded, the hungriest, the most vulnerable.
In the early light of dawn, she stands looking north, one word echoing in her mind..... Smuggling....