A/N: Yes, I know I have two other stories I'm working on...and I promise the next chapter of The Game will be out soon (damn writer's block), Things should be updating things easier as soon as chapter 3 comes out... Fire and Ice fans, the next chapter will definetly be out around next week. I've sent in the second part to chapter 3 to my beta reader, and I'm just waiting for her to get back to me.

Chapter 1

Marron grinned as she bundled up three pairs of silver candlesticks and poured a bag of Gold Crownheads into a black purse, replacing them with a bag of stones and sand. Lord Bordemont was going to receive a big surprise tomorrow morning…

Laughing softly, she reached for a nearby inkpot; quill and paper, drawing upon the white sheets a dark paw print – the signature of The Cat. Blowing the sleeping form of the lord a teasing kiss, she stepped softly through to the window, carefully oiling the hinges and opening the shutters before slipping through the ornate bars and into the moonless night.

~

"The Cat has struck again!" The whispers of rumour swept through the busy market square. Five hundred Gold Crownheads, each enough to set a peasant family from work for a year, as well as six silver candlesticks worth eight hundred silvers each had been stolen from a now enraged Lord Bordemont. The Brynn family, mourning the death of Tom Brynn, the only possible breadwinner in the family had received a mysterious purseful of money that was said could support them for life…it was beyond doubt that The Cat was behind this.

Trunks Briefs, Duke of Forthan scowled as he strolled through the city streets. It was true that the problem with The Cat was reaching crisis level, but it wasn't as if Lord Bordemont wouldn't miss the amount taken. "But your Grace, it is for the safety of Forthan that I beseech you to find this evil culprit immediately." The nasal whine echoed in his mind as he shook his head in disgust. How dare that stupid slug think that catching The Cat wasn't at the top of his priority? It wasn't as if the job wasn't easy. Ten times they had thought they had pinned the culprit and ten times he had slipped out of their grasp. His hand brushed the jewelled hilt of a sword at his hip, and he wondered momentarily what would be the consequences of Lord Bordemont meeting a quick end in a dark alley, but he shook it off. It would only mean more work, more pressure, more stress.

Sighing in frustration, Trunks turned on his heel and stormed towards Forthan Castle.

~

"Flower, mister?" Marron flashed a sweet smile at a passing stranger. "Only a ha' copper each." Making a face as he refused, she set a basket of cream roses on the ground and moved to sit on a box of crates, one hand absently tucking a strand of her shoulder length gold hair behind an ear.

"Business a bit slow, huh?" She turned to see the owner of the fruit n' vegetable stall beside her give a knowing wink, his third eye cautiously watching his wares.

"Nope Tien, this is the normal rate." She sighed, giving the basket a light kick. "No one ever wants to buy flowers from me. They'd rather get it from the Bags at Bowler O' Jewel." She wrinkled her button nose, pronouncing the syllables with disgust.

A round apple flew through the air, landing on her lap. "Its on the house." Tien grinned. "The reason why the richer folk go and buy flowers from Bowler O' Jewel is because Bags prefer to trust Bags rather than street rats like you, no offence meant."

"None taken." Marron played with a twist of thread that had come lose from her patched brown calico skirt. "Uncle Yamcha's called me that more times that I can count." "But street rats in many ways are actually better off than Nobs and Bags." The voice of her blind uncle echoing in her memory brought a lump to her throat. Swallowing it before Tien noticed her change in mood, Marron forced a smile.

Oblivious, Tien continued. "Besides, its us poorer folk that The Cat supports. Have you heard about his latest escapade?"

Marron shrugged with nonchalance. "A whole lot of money and valuables was stolen from Lord Bordemont."

"And the Brynn family is a whole lot richer. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What kind of man would not be interested in that amount of money?"

"What makes you think The Cat is a man?" Marron gave Tien a curious look.

"It's common knowledge that The Cat is a highwayman-outlaw who wishes justice for the less fortunate." Tien flashed Marron a teasing smile. "There are also rumours of him looking for a wife. You're a pretty little thing…who knows he may not choose you?"

"Tien!" Marron blushed, biting her lip to keep from laughing from the absurdity of the comment, her depression forgotten. Why would I need a wife?

"I'm not joking Marron. The Cat is said to be about twenty. You are about your eighteenth summer. Why would he not want to chose you as his bride?"

Perhaps it is because I am The Cat. Marron grinned, rising her hands dusting her skirt. Picking up her flower basket, she shrugged. "I dunno. I guess just not ready for marriage yet, but I do have to sell these flowers." With a wave of her hand, she resubmerged into the marketplace crowd.

~

"Trunks!" Trunks turned to see his friend's spiky hair rise above the rest of the market-day crowd.

"Greetings, Goten." He smiled, genuinely happy to see his friend. Perhaps he had some news in the investigation…

Seeing the look on Trunks' face, Lord Goten Son shook his head. "Sorry friend, none of my men have found any new leads regarding to the case."

"Damn." Trunks shook his head. "If I do not find who it is soon, most of the nobles and merchants in this city will want my head on a platter."

"I think they would have more sense than that…"

Trunks raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, maybe not." Goten gave his friend a look of concern. Four years ago Trunks had never been this serious. Then the old Duke and Duchess of Forthan had passed away and left the responsibility of the duchy upon his shoulders. And then The Cat had come. Under the pressure of ruler of the duchy, Trunks had changed. He seemed to have totally forgotten what it meant to relax and have fun…he was becoming more and more like the old duke every day. At least Vegeta had the Duchess Bulma by his side… "Are you well friend?"

"Of course I am well. If I was ill in health I would not be out." Trunks blatantly avoiding the question. Changing the subjected, he added, "My sister is free this evening."

"Truly?" Goten's eyes lighted up in joy, all thoughts forgotten. Trunks rolled his eyes. Sometimes his friend was so predictable.Goten had been courting his sister, the Marchioness Bra since the beginning of last year, and the very mention of her name could send him off into a trance. Hiding a smile, Trunks turned away. He had more important things to think about.

~

The tiny sliver of moon illuminated Marron's golden hair as she pushed open the door to the tiny flat she called home. An aroma of stewed meat and vegetables met her nose.

"I decided to start supper." A pair of grinning eyes met hers as a ten year old looked up from stirring a cauldron upon a roaring fire.

"Thanks Rei." Marron laughed, setting the basket of flowers down upon the ground.

"What, only two roses sold?" Rei shook her head. "Marron, how are going to survive if that's the only effort you put in?" She nodded towards a similar, but empty basket beside herself. "I've managed to sell all of mine, and I only had the afternoon."

"Hey, the hundred silvers I kept from yesterday's bounty is enough to do us a month." Marron protested. "Now, show me your sums."

Rei made a face and waved at the wooden crates that were the makeshift table at the corner of the room. Walking over to it, Marron noted the bulging purse made from the same brown calico of her skirt and the bundle of silk hankies also lying at the corner of the desk. She raised an eyebrow and picked up the purse testing it for weight. "Thirty silvers and fifty coppers." Which nobleman did you get this from?

Rei shrugged, banking the fire and spooning out two bowls of hot stew and took out two slightly stale bread rolls from the cupboard. Juggling them with a long practiced skill, she placed one in front of Marron and started eating, carefully catching each crumb in an already washed hand. "He was tall, dark and had a hooked nose."

"Baron Menes that was. More stuck up than a pig." She walked over to a terracotta pot, ladling out water into a wooded basin and washed her own hands, before throwing the water outside to watering the meagre vegetable patch owned by their landlord. Going back to the table, she began eating, her eye going over the list of sums Rei had completed.

Marron had been four when the epidermic of White Fever had hit the city, and although the Duke and Duchess had done all in their power to curb the deadly illness, not all could be saved. 'Uncle' Yamcha had found her sobbing at the side of the street one morning after the death of her parents, and had taken her under his wing, teaching her first how to pickpocket and then burglar homes of the wealthier members of the city.

They had practiced their craft together, until somebody ordered the basement of the home they were living in burnt. In saving her, Yamcha had been blinded by the flames and so after moving into their new home, it was only Marron continued practicing her thieving skills.

It was on returning from one of her nightly 'rounds' that Marron had found Rei, newly orphaned in a street brawl. Taking her home, both she and Yamcha began teaching her, first how to read and write and do simple sums, so she would not be tricked by the local pawnbroker when swapping their wares for coin, to pick pocketing. And then Yamcha died…

Marron closed her eyes briefly; shutting out the flow of memories her thoughts had awakened.

"Are you alright Marron?"

Marron forced a smile at Rei's piping voice. "Yes, I'm fine Rei. Just…a little sad, that's all."

"Thinking 'bout Uncle Yamcha?" Rei sighed, getting up and climbing onto Marron's lap. "I miss him, Marron. And I miss his stories."

Marron smiled gently. "How 'bout I tell you one? It's about a girl named Cinderella…" Grinning as Rei snuggled herself against her 'big sister' Marron began the story…