Soft paws bounded along the cobblestone, pattering swiftly through the traffic of passing wagons and citizens as they made their way to the run-off. Two little hares dove into the alley, through a crawl space, and managed to squeeze into a grate before jumping excitedly onto a heap of paw-sewn blankets. "Mommy!" cried the youngest, a little azure hare with a baby-blue snout and belly. His eyes glimmered like polished emeralds. "Mommy, it's time to get up!" he urged.
"Yeah..." Added the oldest quietly, nuzzling into the neck of the sleeping rabbit. He, in mild contrast to his brother, was a deep, royal purple with a lavender belly and snout. HIS eyes were like rubies. "Common, Mommy..." He pushed gently on his mother's chest, large ears turned upwards. The female rolled onto her back, running her paws along her snout. She was a light purple with similar emerald eyes to her youngest.
"Morning already?" she inquired, sitting up and taking both of her children into her lap. "Well, are you boys ready?" The blue rabbit, named Clyde, nodded happy while his brother, though, shook his own. "No, you're not," said the female. "You haven't been brushed yet." Clyde crossed his arms angerly and gave a little kick with his right foot. "Now, now, my little jewel, you know you need to look presentable. You may be a little gypsy, but you will look like a gentleman." Swiftly, the female snatched up an ivory brush from her side and laid Clyde across her lap. She brushed out his back, his tail, and his head all while fighting with the fidgety bunny. When she finally released, he hopped from her lap and shook angerly, scowl crossing his features. Her oldest, however, Bonnie, climbed slowly into his mother's lap and rolled onto his back, letting her run the soft bristles along his coat. "See, now," said the female, "Bonnie doesn't fuss. It's not bad at all, is it, sweetie?"
"No, mama," chimed the sweet, soft voice of the older hare as he smiled happily at the brush's gentle pull. "I like the brush." The female smiled and patted her oldest affectionately as she put him down next to his brother.
"That's a good boy. Clyde, you need to start acting your age. Be a big-boy. There's nothing wrong with the brush."
"Yes, there is!" grumbled the blue rabbit stubbornly. "It's hurts and pulls! It feels like it cuts me!"
"Nuh-uh," Bonnie snapped, tackling his little brother in a playful pounce. "You're just being a baby."
"No, I'm not!" Clyde kicked out angerly and smacked his brother across the chest, but Bonnie wouldn't even pretend it hurt. He pushed down harder on the smaller's chest and snorted at him. "Get off! You're a ton! Mama!"
"I'm not hurting you."
"Bonnie, please, let him up. You're both kind little gentlemen. You need to act like it." Bonnie slunk off of Clyde and sat with both ears lowered to the side of his head. "Now, why don't you two wake the others while I dress." Both the bunnies nodded in unison and bounded off out of their mother's tent. The female sighed quietly and stood from her cot, straitening her stained, old night dress. It was torn and battered, much like her. She'd had it many long years, yet she cherished it. It reminded her of a time when she was well and capable. Now, though... she'd lost so much in the wake of her husband's death... She was a widow on the streets with a clan of gypsies and two young children. Nevaeh was her name and, even though she was close to broken, she was still beautiful. She thought that her continued beauty was a gift from the gods. So much had been taken from her, but still she had it. It helped with money. Her children did, too. She loved her children so deeply. Bonnie was sweet and quiet and Clyde was loud and energetic. They were opposites to a point, but she could never think of a day without them. They were her greatest treasures... Her jewels. She needn't fancy dresses, a mansion, or any rings of gold. All she needed was her children.
Nevaeh walked to a small, worn trunk and pulled from in a lovely, paw-sewn gown. It's skirt was as white as morning clouds and the corset was the dark purple of Bonnie's fur. She dawned it quickly and tied it tight about her waist. It made her breasts pop uncomfortably and her stomach squeeze to a point of bursting, but she knew it would get people's attention. In most woman, it was the look of a harlot, but if looking like a harlot got her boys food, she would play the part. With the same ivory brush as prior, Nevaeh stroked the knots out from her long hair and let it fall in waves over her shoulder blades. Finally, she grabbed a long baby blue and purple swirled ribbon from her hip and strode out into the main area of the camp. By then, most of the others of their group were awake and Bonnie and Clyde greeted her joyously.
"You look pretty, mama," Bonnie exclaimed, nuzzling into Nevaeh's skirt with a wide smile. Clyde followed wordlessly and hugged her leg. They were so thin... too thin for active young boys... too thin for any child... It hurt her to see them in such a state. Gods, she could see Bonnie's spine... and Clyde's ribs... She noticed it every day and not a single time did she not have to hold back tears. She fought them every day. She couldn't let her children see her cry. They needed to be happy. No matter what, they needed to be happy.
"Thank you so much, my jewels. Now, come along. We need to get you something to eat." Nevaeh walked along with her sons at her heels. She met an older hare mid-camp, sitting by the fire warming his paws. His name was Hesher. He was somewhere from fifty to fifty-five and had the obvious signs of starvation written all over him. His fur was an off-white and matted. It had even fallen out in some places. "Are you ready to play?"
Hesher nodded, picking up a strange horn from a place next to him. He stood and walked with the family to a spot down the street, towards a flower shop. They stood on the corner and laid out a woven basket. As Hesher began to play, Nevaeh took the ribbon and danced with it, curling it about herself gracefully. She spun and pivoted sharply on her toes and heels, flaring her skirt to hide her bony figure. Bonnie and Clyde sat before her for some time, mesmerized as always by her performance, but when Hesher began to play a more up-beat tune, they too began to dance, taking one another's paws and twirling happily, picking up their paws in clumsy, but excited leaps. Clyde laughed as though he wanted the world to hear and Bonnie just smiled in the lop-sided way he always did. It made Nevaeh feel so much better. It made her happy... It made her dance more out of enjoyment than necessity. Her children's happiness was the only music she really needed. They liked to have the horn, though. It made them happy.
Soon, minutes ticked into hours and she couldn't tell. She danced and danced and listened closely to the sounds of her children dancing, too. It was like a spell... a happy... heedless spell... Then it stopped. It stopped suddenly when Hesher pulled on her skirt with a worried look in his eyes. His voice drew her fully from the trance. "Galleon Masters!" he barked. In the distance, Nevaeh could see the shinning gold clad of Ursian Galleon masters, swords on their hips and a hardened threat in their strides. She quickly yanked up her children and the basket of newly acquired coin and bolted off with the older gypsy. They ran back to their camp, Nevaeh slower than he with the added weight. Hesher slipped back into the hidden area with ease, but Nevaeh stopped. She set down the children and allowed them to get into the camp first. She then attempted to give them the basket, but her arm was grabbed swiftly.
"Hold, madam," came a stern voice. An armored Ursian paw snagged her and one of the Galleon masters pulled her away. The other took the basket and followed as she was placed against a brick wall. "We cannot allow soliciting on our streets."
"Soliciting? I was earning money legally to buy food for my children!"
"Whatever the case, Madam, we cannot allow it. It is decree. We will have to take the coin." Nevaeh gasped the breast-plate of the Ursian, holding tight to him, eyes welling and voice pleading.
"Please! My boys are starving! We all are! You know that no one will hire a Gypsy! This is the only way I can feed them!" The soldier holding the basket scoffed.
"Perhaps if you had any other skill besides being a harlot, street urchin, you-"
"Quiet!" screamed the Ursian holding Nevaeh, slashing a swift paw in the other's direction. "You take the gold to the palace before I knock you one in your disrespectful jaw." The younger Ursian reeled back from the sudden outburst from his superior and shuffled away as fast as his pride would allow. Once out of earshot, the remaining Galleon Master sighed. He released Nevaeh and pressed both paws to his helm. Slowly, he removed it, revealing a handsome, cream-coated Ursian with eyes that shimmered silver like night-time stars. He put his helmet at his hip and looked down at the Gypsy with an air of pity in his glance. "I am truly sorry about this," he murmured in a smooth, warm voice. "I know how you try, but the King doesn't see it that way. He thinks of you still as refugees from the war, though I know many of you are now born or forced into this in spite of never knowing well of the war. What has you and your children on the street?" Nevaeh was almost taken back by the creature...
"My... Husband died... when he did, we lost everything to debts..." The Ursian nodded.
"Well... as your... dancing is seen as solicitation, I'm afraid you being caught doing this again will result in arrest, but... Well... Maybe I can help... if only a little." The Ursian reached into a pocked upon his belt and dragged out a sturdy cloth sack. He handed it to the Gypsy swiftly and made her to hide it without any moment to hesitate. She would have said something, but he put a paw-pad to his snout and caution. "Now, I have to return to my patrol. Take care, Madam."
"Wait..." He stopped mid-turn and looked at her, curiosity filling his stary eyes.
"Yes?"
"What is your name?"
"Goedhartig Duivel. I hate it in its entirety, though. Call me Hartig. What of you?"
"Nevaeh Verlopen." The Ursian smiled.
"Lovely... I wish well on you, Nevaeh." And he placed his helmet upon his head and walk away, leaving Nevaeh holding tightly to the bag. Not out of worry that it would, too, be taken from her, but out of want to feel the bear's warmth before it fled with him.