DISCLAIMER: I don't own TMI. All credit for characters, settings, etc. that you recognize goes to Cassandra Clare.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi, guys! This is my new TMI fanfiction. It takes place after the events of TMI, and while I want this story to be the best as possible, CoHF hasn't come out yet, so some facts might be a little off with that plot. I would suggest not reading this until after CoLS, I guess, also.

In this story, Clary and Jace are running the Institute. I know the Lightwoods owned it during TMI, but, as you'll see, it fits a little better if Clace runs it.

I'm not exactly sure what the plot will be. I have two main ideas, but it just came to me a few nights ago, and this is the prologue I wrote. Enjoy!

Prologue:

A young girl was walking down the streets of New York City. Although she was alone, the first thing anyone noticed about her was the odd lack of color in her face, excluding her crystalline, blue eyes. This girl's hair was an extremely pale blond, which, from a distance, almost looked like pure white. Her skin was pale, too, unblemished.

Her feet splashed through the puddles on the sidewalk, the rain pouring down in heavy sheets. Despite the fact that it was still autumn, it was getting chillier and the girl wasn't wearing a particularly heavy coat. Those walking past this girl pitied her, but not enough to actually do anything other than keep their heads down and hurry to wherever it was they were going.

The girl was used to this. She had been living on the streets of New York City for about two years of her life now. She hadn't slept in a real bed since she lived in the orphanage, and barely had hot meals anymore.

The only real means this girl had of getting food were by playing her guitar and singing along to her music in subway stations and on the street. She had been told she was very good, and might make it big if she worked at it. Still, once a recording company found out that she didn't have a home and there weren't any relatives in the picture, she'd be sent back to the orphanage. The girl didn't want that at all.

This girl didn't really like people at all either — or, rather, she didn't trust them. She had always been shy and quiet, but as she grew older she consciously avoided people. Nowadays it was hard for her to even formulate sentences around them. To make a long story short, the girl just got nervous around people in general.

The only time she really wasn't shy was when she was performing with her guitar. And even then, once she had finished her song she didn't really talk much to her audience. People would comment on her shyness sometimes, but the girl didn't really think much of it. She believed that if she was offended by their remarks, she should just get over her shyness instead.

But she never did open up to people. Of course, she had never really had a person in her life to open up to, but she figured someday she would. She just didn't know when.

The girl continued her walk down the street. She was making her way into a seedier neighborhood, and increased her pace. She didn't like to spend much time in these sorts of areas, and always used an alleyway that gave her a quick shortcut out of there. The girl wasn't really frightened of much — besides other people, that is — but still didn't like this area. It gave her a bad feeling in her gut.

There weren't any other people around, and usually she would be happy about that. But now, she almost wished for the presence of human company. Being this deserted wasn't just frightening — it was creepy. The sunlight wasn't all that strong because of the rain, and there weren't any street lights to provide much in the way of seeing things. The girl regretted coming this way at all, and made a mental note not to come here again. Usually, she wouldn't be this freaked out. But today, for some reason, she felt extremely on edge.

She turned the corner into the alleyway, quickening her pace once again. The rain was falling more heavily now, and she wished she had an umbrella. It was only around four o'clock or so, but the rain and constant covering of clouds made her feel cold, as if it were deep in the nighttime instead of the mid-afternoon.

Just as she was about to turn the second corner, she heard footsteps behind her. Automatically, she jumped and turned around.

The girl found herself face to face with a massive wolf.

Although normal would wonder just how the wolf ended up in such an urban area, the girl had grown up in New York City — she had seen all sorts of crazy things before. From people wearing odd costumes to just strange people in general, the girl thought she had seen it all.

But this was not the case. Oh, no, this was definitely not the case.

Nothing compared to this.

She tried to back up, but in a flash the wolf was right beside her. It was so near to her that she could see the yellow in its eyes, the silver streaks through the black fur, and, what frightened her most of all, the menacingly sharp teeth.

The wolf made a semi-circle around her, managing to get the girl pushed up against the wet wall. She didn't even have time to think about how scared she was once the wolf had knocked her onto the ground.

She slid her left arm beneath her to prevent her from hitting her head on the pavement. Still, she could hear the sickening crack the sound of breaking bones made, and winced in pain.

The wolf was looming over her now, and as it leaned in, the girl weakly tried to push it away from her. But a broken arm made a girl very tired, and her half-hearted attempt to defend herself was easily avoided by the wolf. The wolf leaned in once more, about to….

Suddenly the wolf was knocked away, but as it fell gave one more desperate swipe of its paw. The sharp claws made a cut across her face, and blood could be felt running down her cheeks. They mixed in with the rain.

Automatically, the girl knew she had a way of escaping — the wolf, after all, had been flung away by goodness knows what. Abruptly standing up, the girl praying she could just get home and clean her cut and eat some food and —

"Wait, hold on!" a woman's voice said. She wasn't very tall, but she was definitely bigger than the girl. Her hair, so it seemed, had once been red, but its color had faded to a more muted shade. A few gray hairs ran through it, too. The girl thought the woman to be in her mid to late thirties.

"I'm Clary Herondale," the woman said breathlessly.