The cold breeze of winter whipped past me as I ran, air fogged by quick breaths, cobblestone damaged by heavy footsteps. For the third time since my journey began, someone had recognized me from all of the fliers pinned up around the surrounding estates, and a generous amount of policemen had tracked me down, intimidating Dobermans at their beck and call.
I'd learned early on it'd be best to keep to the shadows, as not everyone here was as softhearted as my dear Master. Even now, I notice all of the citizens glancing over at the commotion and frowning in distaste. Not because of Scotland Yard's greatest officers chasing a supposed criminal, but just because of my appearance.

I've learned the hard way that I'm filth.

On his very sickbed, he'd told me to try my best to stay hidden until all was carried out. "T-Travel at night, sleep... during the day,"he'd whispered in his weak voice. "If you s-see... a candle in the window, they'll feed you, clothe you, and give y-you directions as long... as you g-give them...my name. Above all...stay safe. That is all I wish." With watery yet solemn eyes, I merely nodded, brushing a few strands from his forehead to kiss it. If everything went as planned, I'd be able to see him again.

That is my motivation.

I wrapped my dingy coat closer to my chest, the cooler temperatures confusing my normally sultry body. Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but take in all that was around me with wide eyes. Everything was so…foreign to me. Just as all of my books said, there were pounds as far as the eye could see, bones littering the streets, and rabid strays always on the prowl. It was as if the words had jumped off the page and come to life.

Lungs blazing, I rounded yet another corner, hoping to end this game of cat and mouse as quickly as possible. Instead, I was met with a dark, dank alleyway, a mighty brick wall towering above me. Dead end. I cursed quietly in my head, breath choppy and ragged. All at once, morbid thoughts of what would happen to me filled my head. More enslavement, more sexual assault, more physical assault, maybe a few toes so I can never do it again…

I clutched my head in pain, trying to concentrate on something, anything. All I truly wanted was to curl up somewhere and hide. Shrouded in the brick wall's looming shadow, there lay a bunch of crates stacked haphazardly against each other. If I could squeeze into one of them, there was a slim chance I wouldn't be noticed and would be able to slip away. Biting my lip, I glanced back at the alley's entrance. Loud voices and snarling were fast approaching. By then, there was no way even I could outrun them.

With much difficulty, I shimmied myself into a sitting position in one of the larger boxes, but not before retrieving a handful of pepper from my coat pocket and generously sprinkling it around the perimeter of the enclosure. I'd read many times in mystery novels how fugitives used that technique to baffle tracking dogs. Firmly shutting the lid, I laid back and released a breath I didn't know I was holding. All I could do was wait.

Eventually, the familiar scuffle of shoes and paws caught up with me, and who I assume to be the leader of the group barking orders. Just as I expected, I could hear wet noses sniffing the ground fervently, approaching with caution. And just as I expected, the mutts got a whiff of my little present and walked back to their masters, tails between their legs and whimpering.

"She ain't here, you lot! Divide and conquer!"

With a chorus of 'Yes sir!' the group dispersed, leaving me to decide what to do next. I was definitely positive I was in Houndsworth, their obsession with the mongrels was evident enough. The real question was…who was I supposed to see? I was fairly certain it was Houndsworth I was supposed to go, but he never specified just who I was to talk about everything with. Throughout my whole sprint through the city, I didn't see a candle, a knit blanket, or anything to confirm who I would house with for the day. Surely, I wouldn't have to rest in that cramped box…?

With an exhausted sigh, I tried to get back onto my feet, only to come crashing back down again. The whole time, my legs had been shaking violently, and my arms were hit by a wave of weakness. Travelling was virtually impossible.
Just as I was about to loll my head in defeat, a pair of footsteps came towards me again, only this time, there was no snarling or harsh orders, just…talking. In a desperate attempt to stay conscious, I focused on their words, eavesdropping.
"Young Master, I do apologize for my tardiness—had I known the situation was of the utmost importance, I would have come sooner."

"Nonsense, Sebastian! You knew good and well to stay by my side until that hound arrived. Why, you merely wanted me to call your name, I warrant!"

"…Whatever you say, Young Master."

From what I could understand, this…Sebastian character was the boy's slave. While his voice was melodious and at ease, the Young Master's was demanding, yet…inexperienced. Though it didn't concern me in the least, I couldn't help but wonder what the slave looked like. Was he as dark as me? Had anyone called him filth? The questions could go on and on, though I was careful to keep this thought strictly in my head as they approached my hiding spot.

"Sebastian," the Young Master began, his voice clear and concise, "now that the Hell Hound ordeal has been closed, open each of these crates and burn all clothes and merchandise inside. Anything that's touched this city's gravel is to be considered tainted and burned."
I heard Sebastian get down on one knee, the smile audible in his voice. "Yes, my lord."
I prayed to God that neither of them heard it, but I'm pretty sure my heart rat sped up as I gulped. They can't BURN me for being in their luggage, right? Right!? Clenching my jaw with much more force than what could be considered healthy, I scooted around the tight space, now slightly looking outside of the box. If I was going to die here, I at least wanted to see it coming, despite only getting a view of their highly expensive shoes.

It seems my prayer got through, as another pair of feet thundered down the street, coming to a halt in front of the party. Whoever it was, they were breathing heavily, a very crinkled piece of paper grasped firmly in their hands. The Young Master immediately turned to them, asking in a rather annoyed voice what he was doing.
"M-My apologize, Young Earl...!" the man managed to pant, keeling over slightly in exhaustion. From the sound of it, he was the same man in charge a few minutes earlier, giving orders to find me. Great. Just...great. I clutched my knees to my chest, wishing I could just disappear, and even more so that the erratic throbbing in my head would cease.

"My men and I have been searching for this slave for a solid hour," he offered the paper to them, to which both the slave and Young Master widened their eyes in slight wonder. A quickly drawn sketch of me running with an allegedly 'stolen' coat in my arms was displayed, my eyes darker than my skin. Who drew that so quickly? D-Do I...really look that scary?
"A slave...?" The Young Master repeated, scrutinizing the paper further. "How could she have possibly traveled so far into London? And in the afternoon, for the Queen's sake!"

"W-We fear it might have been the work of local abolitionists, Young Earl. The damn people have no idea how to mind themselves..."
The Young Master grunted in response, haughtily turning his head away from the vignette. "Why, exactly, are you telling this to me? You are a policeman of Scotland Yard, one of the elite, I presume. Shouldn't you have already handled this?" The man opposite of him gulped, obviously very ashamed and embarrassed. "…H-Her current owner is Duke Pierre Chantel, son of the highly esteemed Duke Edgar V. Chantel. Since last week, he's been fatally ill, and despite his son's pleas, Duke Edgar Chantel demanded the chamber slave's immediate return so she can watch over Duke Pierre Chantel."

"In other," the Young Master began, stepping forward and smiling mischievously, "if you lot screw up a direct order from a man of such a high state, Scotland Yard will forever be tainted by this failure." Reluctantly, the policeman nodded, though it sounded more like a statement than a question to me.

"Very well. I'll have Sebastian take me back to the hotel Angela and the other servants are staying, then he can search for the woman you so desire. As it seems we'll be staying in Houndsworth longer than expected, all burnings shall have to wait as well." With that being said, the policeman thanked the pair and sped off, probably searching for his men. Young Master slid into the creaky coach, sitting with a particular authority that I'm sure even grown men would be intimidated by.

Just as I thought the carriage had rolled away, I felt myself—or my box, rather—being lifted high into the air by its sides, and curtly plopped on top of something. W…What!? Again, I looked through the gap in the box, only to see other boxes and bags stacked atop one another.
I was put in the back of the cargo hold.
Without enough time or strength to slip out and run for the hills, I was carried off to only God knows where.

It was well into the evening when I awoke, the stars shining brightly overhead. The rhythmic, clunky movement of the carriage—which had eventually lulled me to sleep, I'm guessing—had abruptly come to a stop. Lethargically wiping at my eyes, I tried my best to stretch in the dark, cramped space I had. First state of business: get the heck out of this box.

I looked down at my legs, relieved to see they weren't shaking anymore. If I was going to get out, I'd have to do it quickly and efficiently. Slowly standing to my feet, I pushed the lid off and set it gently on the wooden floor, hoisting myself onto it soon after. Trying my best to not make a sound, I maneuvered around the many bags and suitcases towards the exit.
Just as I thought I'd be able to make it to out without notice, the tall figure of a man appeared in front of the cloth drapes, making to part the coarse fabrics. I dove behind one of the boxes, hoping they didn't hear the scuffle.

"What's taking so long, Sebastian? Shouldn't you be looking for that slave already?" I heard the Young Master's voice ask from the carriage. "Yes, My Lord," the apparition responded,"I merely wished to return all of the luggage to the servant's room before I took my leave." I could hear him taking a few of the boxes and placing them on the ground with a clatter beside him. The barrier between us was getting thinner and thinner.
Biting my lip, I mentally wrote out my will. There was no way I could escape now. As slender, gloved hands ventured farther into the darkness, I held my breath.

"Tell me when you've found her," commanded the Young Master, exiting the carriage and walking towards the hotel. At that moment, Sebastian removed the very last box-the one in front of me. When he and I locked eyes, I could see a lick of surprise flicker in those chocolate brown orbs of his, before regaining the calmness-and was that a touch of amusement? A minuscule smirk crept across his lips as he spoke, not looking away from me.

"Found her."

Alright I gotta admit: I had SO much fun writing this! I actually had to STOP myself from going into chapter 2!

So, I looked at some of the feedback I'm getting and thankfully everyone said they'd actually read this. I've got mixed reactions on whether or not I should do a Sebastian x OC or a Sebastian x OC x to the matter at hand, I've made a poll, and I think anybody can vote (Let me know if you can't) so just go here for your input, and I'll be monitoring it as I go through the series (And change the title appropriately).

quiz/3691221/Th…

I don't own Black Butler, Sebastian, or Ciel (Or Scotland Yard, or London, or Houndsworth, or...wait, Houndsworth doesn't even exist! Right...?)

I DO own the plot and OC, however, so paws off!

Please comment.

Stay beautiful~