She awoke. Her eyes snapped open. She raised her head and threw the jacket off of her. The embers of the fire glowed in front of her. Her eyes widened and she frantically began to search. Where was her arm? Did that man burn it? She noticed the blood splatter from her original arm on the wall. Her original left arm had been removed, the pool of blood now a crimson stain on the floor. She finally found the contraption to the right of the fire with a note attached.

Disregarding the note as she tore it off and let it fall to the floor, she grabbed the arm. She picked up her jacket and picked out her wand and threw the coat back on the floor. "Give me the strength and the power to forge my own future, whatever that may be," she chanted as she infused the object with her magic. The runes seared themselves into the arm, glowing blue for a moment. She took a stray nail and carved the rune for Puppet String into it. She infused that with magic as well. She waved the wand and directly connect the two, allowing her to constantly cast that spell without it. She could move it like any limb. She could command it like a familiar. She put it on: she strapped it to her body through a belt tied around her waist and a metal collar she had made. As long as it would hold, it would be fine.

It was a little weird. It was slightly heavy, but she knew it would take some adjusting. It reacted immediately to her and she tried to move it like her old arm. It was a little hard to wrap her mind around it at first, but she got the hang of it. She flexed the wooden fingers and stretched the arm to gauge its functionality. It worked flawlessly! She was proud of her little invention.

Her eyes widened as she remembered. She looked back at the note: "Went out to get food. Will be back." She squeaked when she read it. Someone had found her. She needed to leave. She needed to get out. Now. She threw her coat over her shoulders and pulled her new arm through the sleeve along with her right almost as if nothing had changed. It felt so strange not to feel anything with what she touched. She worried about her self-control. She'd have to practice later.

She bolted to the door in a rush. She froze when a shadow blocked the desert sun. He had returned, sporting a sack over his shoulder. "You're up…," he asked her as he tilted his head. "What a relief! I was worried you wouldn't pull through!" He walked out of the door and she could clearly see him. He had dark blue pants and red socks along with the faded red shirt she saw him wear from before. He had some stubble on his chin, though light and kept shaved. His wavy dark brown hair started to grey at the ends and even had some streaks running from the center of his head. He was thin but nourished. His hands had started to show his age, slightly wrinkled and bony. His eyes looked perpetually tired and the lines around them didn't help make him look any less so.

"What do you want with me," she interrogated, backing away. She had her hand above the right pocket of her coat.

"A little gratitude," he requested with a raised eyebrow. "I saved your life, after all." He leaned to the side, his right hand on his hip.

"Saved my life," she snapped as if deeply offended. "You don't just save someone's life without an ulterior motive! What do you really want?" She didn't move. She had learned to be suspicious of people during the very first year she left home. She watched him for any signs of trickery. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the man who had claimed to save her life.

He sighed and set the bag down. "You're right… I do have other plans," he openly admitted as he looked down, his palms out and away from his sides. "I need money. Bounty hunting's hit a lull, recently. On top of that, what money I had when I set off with from Hamelin has nearly run out." He relaxed and looked up with a smirk. "But you're just a kid. A kid in that was in a bad way."

She reached into her pocket for her gun. She gasped when she couldn't find it. She reached for her wand instead and held it out in an offensive stance. "You won't be taking me anywhere. This kid won't let you."

His eyes widened and he frowned, recognizing the wand in question. Lynnea? She has her wand? His eyebrows furrowed as he glared at her. "Don't try to fight me. I'm on your side, trust me." He shook his head and continued to watch her.

"On my side?!" She gripped her wand with both hands. "You plan to turn me in! You plan to hand me over! Do you know what they'd probably do to me?!" She gritted her teeth.

He raised his head a little. He almost seemed to grin menacingly to her. "You don't think I know that? I helped you so you would have a fighting chance. I helped you because you're just a kid! You don't deserve that kind of fate." His concerned voice contradicted the look on his face. "I actually have the leverage to make your sentence less severe." He crossed his arms and rolled his head. "Whether you chose to cooperate or not is no consequence."

"You?! How could you," she questioned shaking her head. "And even if you could, why?! Because I'm helpless?" She felt tears of frustration stream down her face. She shook her head. She didn't need him. She felt she had been doing fine on her own. She wasn't going to be coddled. "I'm not completely helpless! And like hell I'll do anything you tell me," she shouted, stomping her feet. "My own father couldn't tell me what to do! You certainly won't either!"

"You're a runaway, then?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. This is strangely coincidental. First, Lynnea goes missing and then this girl… "Are you from Hamelin, by chance?" Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. "You are, aren't you." He reached into his belt and pulled out her version of the pickpocketing pistol. He analyzed it briefly, curiously as he smirked at its design. He began to wonder if she was the missing princess. "Explains this." He saw her sudden unsure and enraged expression. Her hands trembled as she looked up at him. "Oh, calm down, you lousy thief."

"Lousy- I'm not lousy," she claimed. She looked down, doubting herself for a moment. No. This demented old fool doesn't know what he's talking about! "I'm a great thief!" I'm a great thief… the girl repeated in her head. She gritted her teeth as she growled out, "I'm sneaky! I'm good at pickpocketing! I can steal things right out from under your nose!"

"Then why is there a bounty on your head? If you were any good, people wouldn't know who you are," he retorted with a scoff. "Give up! Go home! Either that or turn yourself in! You'll end up dead, otherwise." He looked down, regret in his eyes. "Turn back. You still have time. Do so before it's too late."

"I'm not going to give up! I want to be like the legend! I want to be like Swaine," she fussed glaring at him. "I'll fight you if I have to! I won't let anyone stand in my way." He looked up in shock at her. His mouth hung open for a moment. Was this what his legend was doing to people? He thanked the heavens for that part of the pure-hearted one's own tale being so small, lest history would horribly repeat itself. He closed his mouth, his face set.

He began to march up to her. She unleashed a couple of fireball attacks in self-defense. With each blow he winced but patted himself down, putting out the flames. He continued to advance to her horror. He grabbed her right hand and stared her down. "You listen to me. Swaine was a fool. He was a runaway, just like you. He left home, left his nine-year-old brother all alone. Before he even had the chance to make anything good of himself, his father died with hardly the chance to say goodbye. He was a failure as a person."

"Liar," she shouted as she shook her head. She stared up at his disbelieving eyes. "He helped save the world! He was a hero and a master thief!" She tried to yank her hand out of his grip. She faced him again, her expression fierce and determined. "And he cared about his friends! He cared about his family! No way he'd do something like that!"

He remained unmoved. His eyes were hard and unwavering. "Oh, he did. And he regretted it, too. Until he joined the chosen one, his life was nothing but misery and suffering," he told venomously. "Yours will, too, if you don't heed my warning."

She raised her left arm and drew the rune for fireball. To her amazement, it worked as it propelled the man back with a burst of fire. He fell on the floor with his hands spread in front of his head. As he recovered from the blast, she cried, "And how would you know?!" She stomped up to the man to look down at him.

There was a lamenting laugh and he slowly got up. "Because I've lived it," he revealed somberly. He tossed her gun aside and drew the Cad's Cannon, a mauve gun with golden accents and a blue oval near the end of the rounded barrel. He didn't aim it at her. Instead, he held it up, the muzzle facing towards the left corner of the building and the ceiling. "That's who I use to be," he continued, patting the burnt fabric of his shirt.

"An angry old man like you! Hah! That's a laugh!" She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the man incredulously.

"Everyone grows old, even your heroes," he reflected bitterly. He looked down in thought. He wanted to save this girl from that life. She still had a chance. He reminded her so much of the little niece he knew. If she was, all the more reason to dissuade her. Her arm… she had been through so much pain already. Even he would have considered returning home after such a loss. He looked up sympathetically at her. "Don't you miss home?"

"No. I don't." She looked away. "I never felt like I belonged there." She looked down. She laughed bitterly. "I know it sounds like a cliché but…" She exhaled deeply. "My destiny was chosen for me. I wanted to forge my own future instead of everyone telling me how to live the future they wanted for me." She looked up again at a slightly disheartened Swaine. "I'd never be the person they'd want me to be," she shouted. "I'm broken! I can never live up to my family's expectations!"

"So instead you decided to live in the shadow of a legend," he jeered. "I don't think you quite understood their intentions." He sighed and picked up the bag. He walked over to the corner of the room and set it down. He sat against the wall and looked up at her. "Your father truly wanted what's best for you, more than likely." He smirked. "Mine did too. I was just too stubborn to see it." He frowned when she looked away. "You should go home. I'm sure your family misses you."

"So what if they do," She replied bitterly, hollowly. She looked at him. "They'd just get in my way like you're doing now."

"They'd try to help you find your way." He sighed and shook his head as he looked down. He looked up defeatedly at her. "Look, what do I have to do in order to get you to give up being a thief?"

She thought for a moment as she looked the man over. If he really was the legendary master thief from her uncle's stories, his time was numbered. "Teach me your tricks."

He shot up from the ground and stared wide-eyed at her. "What?! And push you even further into that horrible life?" He shook his head. "No. Not a chance!"

She crossed her arms defiantly. "Then I'm not going home and I'm not going with you." She eyed him cautiously.

He looked her over. Whatever fight she had been in cost the girl her arm. She needed something other than the skills she had to survive in any situation. He sighed and cursed his bleeding heart. "Fine. I give up." He smirked at her. "If you promise to give up this life of criminal behavior and go home, I'll teach you a few of my tricks." When she grinned at him he frowned. "One thing, though."

Her face fell when she heard that. She pressed both arms to her hips and swayed from side to side. "What?"

"These are for your safety. Don't you dare use them for any other reason than your own protection, got it." He wagged a finger at her.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She shrugged and threw her hands up. "Fine. Fine." She walked over to the corner where her gun lied. She picked it up and put it in her pocket. "I'll use them for good and all that." She scoffed and rolled her eyes as she sat on the other side of what used to be a campfire.

Then she began to wonder. She had been out cold for most of that time. "How long was I out?"

"I'd say about a week. It took you a while to recover, thanks to losing your arm." He got up and looked at the blood splatter. "It was nothing but mush. I don't blame you for cutting it off." He threw a confident smirk at the girl sitting on the floor. It disappeared, however the longer he looked at her. "You were so malnourished, though. Your body was struggling to heal. You even developed a fever."

She looked down thoughtfully and nodded. She watched as he retrieved his coat from the floor and put it back on. "We should probably move if I have a bounty on my head," she pointed out.

Swaine nodded. "You're right. We should." He walked over to the pack and flung it over his shoulder. "I hope you like walking… er…" He had a sneaking suspicion of her identity. On the chance she wasn't who he thought she was, he dared not call her name. This girl was smart. If she was his missing niece, Marcassin's daughter, then she'd in time figure out his true identity, thereby confirming his own suspicion.

"Scrofie," she introduced. "The name's Scrofie."

"Scrofie the wizarding thief," he joked with a raised eyebrow. "You must come from a line of sages. Most wizards died out when the Dark Djinn plagued the world." He walked toward the door. "So, care to tell which sage?"

"Even if I was related to one of the sages, I wouldn't tell you." She glared up at him. "I mean, it would be pretty obvious considering where I'm from."

He nodded as they began to leave the building, the girl following him. "Right. Hamelin. You'd be related to the Great Sage Marcassin, right?" She stayed silent for a moment. "Well," he asked when she didn't answer. They had reached the edge of the oasis.

"Yeah. I would," she quietly answered. "But I'm not, so don't get any ideas," she snapped.

"Okay, okay! Keep your hair on," he returned with a chuckle, glancing back over his left shoulder as it was the shoulder without a large pack slung over it. He looked out into the desert. "I hope you like walking, cause we're doing a lot of it."

"I'm fine! Let's go," she cheered, running ahead into the sands. She stopped and turned back to face him. She cupped her hands and shouted back, "C'mon, old man Swaine! Let's get out of here!" She laughed when began to trudge after her, irritably muttering to himself.