"...so why don't you tell me the truth about that kid, huh?"

The girl stopped at the top of the stairs, holding her breath. Whipping out her disguise and putting it on, she gingerly peeked over the edge of the stairs. Being a bit on the short side, she couldn't quite reach out enough to see the entryway to the house. But she could see Ignitus' tail, like a cat's, swooshing in annoyance.

"There is no truth to tell, Tarrok," she heard Ignitus say tiredly. Twitch. "She is just a cheetah girl who we stumbled upon accidentally. She needed help, and had no home to return to, so we took her under our protection. That is the end of the story."

There was a snort. "Do you really think you're fooling me? You think I can't tell one of my own kind from an imposter? You are up to something, and I know it! You may have only been here a week, but if I let that trickstress stay any longer–"

At this, the girl bristled. She'd done nothing wrong; all she wanted was a chance to live her life here! Steeling herself, she stomped loudly down the stairs, yelling, "Volteer, Cyril! I'm ready to go!"

By the time she'd reached the bottom, only a swish of red robes and a slammed door marked the councilmember's presence. As Ignitus passed her, he nodded gratefully.

Cyril walked out of the kitchen, looking like he hadn't gotten quite enough sleep. "What is all this racket about? You know we have to wait for the escort." The great ice dragon sighed, sitting down. "I don't see why we even need to go to the market anyway, that cheetah kid brings us food every few days anyhow..."

"Then why," said Ignitus, sitting down at a cushion in the living room, "are you going?"

"I need to keep an eye on those two!" Cyril exclaimed, pointing to Volteer who emerged presently from the library. "Let them wander off together, they'll be jabbering until sunset and come back with no groceries anyhow!"

At this, there was a knock on the door. "Alright, children," said Cyril, "Let's go."

"I am not a child," Volteer and the girl said at the same time, though the latter with a bit more bite.

The ice dragon glanced at her, noticing the sword belt slung over her chest. "Why are you bringing that along, anyway? Think there'll be apes raiding the market?"

The girl clutched the strap to her chest, looking offended. "It's mine."

"Whatever." The Guardian ambled to the door, opening it.

On the other side stood a small army of soldiers. The girl noticed with amusement that they were lined up in pairs by species, one on each side, all fidgeting nervously. A mole walked up to the doorstep, bowing. "Greetings, most esteemed Guardian, we are here to escort you to–"

"Yes, yes, yes." Cyril brushed past him and the rest of the guards, stomping off on his own towards the market. "I've been fighting in this war since I was a bloody teenager, I didn't need a procession to buy some food."

The girl was glad that her face was masked, because she was having a hard time keeping her laughter muffled at the guards' confused expressions.

Soon enough, they were all tripping down the road, Cyril leading the charge and the soldiers scrambling to keep up. It was a particularly warm fall day, so the street seemed to radiate with golden warmth. An odd procession they were, two big dragons, a little cheetah cloaked all in black, and a battalion of soldiers marching behind them.

Everyone stopped to look as they passed by. It was like the first day they had come here again, with cheers and waves and pointing, as if they were a parade. Though she knew they weren't cheering for her, the girl couldn't help but beam at being put in the spotlight.

Though, every once in a while, she would glance back and remember the soldiers. They had the same starry-eyed expression, but something about the way they were watching... They quickly looked away whenever she glanced back. They were watching her.

Sidling closer to the Guardians, she half-whispered, "Why do we need bodyguards at all?" She looked at the crowd and smiled. "Everyone loves you."

Cyril snorted, keeping his voice low. "The council just wants to keep an eye on us."

The child blinked. "Would they do that?"

Volteer looked at the ground for a moment. "The council has never, u-um, liked–appreciated the Guardians very much, as due to both our secretive nature in our, I suppose, our order, and our occupation as actual defenders rather than simply being p-politicians...

"We hold a position of power both symbolically, to the public, and literally, in matters of the law. We are not bound to the council, and yet, we are their most important associates."

"So... You seem like figureheads, but you have real power... without having to follow their rules?" The girl grinned. "No wonder Tarrok is so obsessed with trying to find something bad about me, since that would reflect badly on you... This is almost as bad as human politics."

"Exactly." Volteer sighed. "Please keep an eye out for Tarrok. We Guardians care little for their... their politics, only for the best interests of the world. Council-members like him..."

"...Just make our lives harder." Cyril rolled his eyes. "I liked being in the middle of the fight better. No diplomatic idiocy. Cowering in Warfang while a war wages on... That's not the position of a real leader!"

"We must do what we must," Volteer said sympathetically. "Right now, applying our brains to the war is a better strategy than applying our brawn..."

The girl stopped listening then. Though she often sat in quietly on their daily war-planning and troop-moving meetings, or practiced her reading while they wrote important-sounding letters, the stratagem and nuances of it all was often lost on her.

Soon enough, they were at the marketplace. It was a wide, circular coliseum-like area, flanked on all sides by shops and buildings. Many roads pushed their way through the buildings, trying desperately to get in, and the guard-wall circled this area–no surprise security was heightened here. Soldiers watched with bored eyes as they guarded the streets. As they entered, the crowd shuffled out of the way, though the cacophony did not cease.

As they walked, Cyril explained that the shopkeepers loved to haggle. "They'll set the price too high," he said, tossing the girl a small pouch filled with the tiny gems they used as currency. "Here, spend this on whatever you want. Try to knock them down."

"What, you want me to do that?" the girl asked incredulously. "Why not just have set prices, anyway? That's how we do it in the human world."

"How odd."

Volteer chimed in, "Haggling is a time-honoured tradition in Warfang, young one!"

Sighing, the girl put on her game face (though most of her face was covered) and approached a stall selling vegetables. It was manned by a gruff-looking mole. He stood half her height, and she noticed that he had to sit on a high stool to even be seen over the stall, but from her position he seemed like a terrifying giant.

Clearing her throat, she said nervously, "How much for the tomatoes?"

The mole leaned forward with a disinterested gaze, sizing her up. "Ten gems a piece, kid."

She'd done this before. They had farmer's markets where she came from–though her sister's sweet brown eyes and cute baby face had usually done all the haggling for her. Still, though. Her eyes narrowed and her tone went flat. "Five gems."

The mole's eyes glinted with respect. "You're low-balling me, huh? Most people don't even try it. Nine gems."

"Six gems."

"Seven."

"Six. Final offer." The girl twirled her pouch around in her finger, smiling.

The shopkeeper considered for a moment, tapping his clawed fingers on the wood, then grinned. "Hmph. Deal."

She walked away with her bag of tomatoes, beaming. Cyril was staring. "You're a natural," he said, his usual pride just barely covering his surprise.

The surge of serious confidence melted, and the girl was back to her normal self again. "Really, you mean it?" she asked wondrously, eyes sparkling.

Cyril rolled his eyes, brushing her off. "What do we need so many tomatoes for, again?"

"For tomato sauce. You put it on noodles." The girl shook her head, looking about for a spice shop. "I can't believe you've never had spaghetti..."

"Tomatoes on noodles? Humans are strange."

"It's really good!"

At that moment, the entire marketplace erupted into a roar of confusion. The girl stumbled back towards the Guardians as people pushed past her, trying to find the source of the panic, but she couldn't see over the heads. Above the crowd, a cry pierced the air: "Stop, thief!"

Looked like it was her lucky day, coming here only for this to happen. She stared in surprise as the crowd in front of her scrambled with a collective cry of confusion, and then opened. A brown blur carrying a bulging bag shot past the three of them. The girl squinted. A brown blur with cracked glasses, an frayed black headband, and a silly grin...

"Cedric?" she asked incredulously. As he passed, the boy winked at her, leaving her gawking as he faded into the crowd.

"You know that thief?" Cyril asked with a gape, watching Cedric escape the market circle, round a corner down the street, and disappear.

The girl stared at the space where he had run off to. "You could say that."

There was the sound of a scuffle coming from the corner where Cedric had gone, and a moment later a few guards rounded the bend, brandishing the bag and hauling the boy himself forward. The crowd cheered and clapped as the soldiers dragged the kid away.

The market quickly returned to normal, but the girl was still staring. Looking at her pouch of gems, she held it out. "You said I could spend this on whatever I wanted, right? This is mine?"

Cyril stared at her a moment and sighed. "Technically, I did say that."

"Well." She looked towards where the guards had led Cedric away. "I know what I want to spend it on."

~~...~~

"Come on, the kid has nowhere to go, no food. You can't blame him for stealing."

The room was barely furnished, but it was packed full with people. Two guards stood at the door leading into the jail proper, watching the girl with interest as she pleaded for Cedric's case. Then, the Guardians and their procession of soldiers were crammed in too, so it was quite the little courtroom.

"The law is the law." A bored-looking dragon guard stared at the girl from behind a desk, twirling a ring of keys in his claws. "No exceptions."

The girl sighed. It was no use. "Okay. If I pay his fine, will you let him go?"

"He's a kid," the guard said flatly. "Family members only."

She exhaled in exasperation, looking back at the Guardians, who just shrugged. Putting on her serious face again, the child leaned forward. "I'm his cousin."

The guard's eyebrows shot up. "You're... his cousin."

"Twice removed," she said quickly.

The dragon stared at her for a moment, in disbelief that she was even trying such an obvious lie, though his impassive expression, like a sheet of ice, did not shatter. His eyes flicked past her to the Guardians, then back to the pleading girl.

Sighing, he tossed the keys to one of the soldiers. "Whatever, it's that brat's lucky day. Just get him out of our paws."

Ten minutes later, Cedric, the girl, and her parade were standing outside the dingy little jail, one pouch of gems lighter. "Man," the mole said with a cheeky grin, ignoring Cyril's glare, "We only just met a week ago, and already you're bailing me out of jail. Not even Auren will do that for me."

She smacked the boy across the head, though his smile didn't falter. "And that's the last time, too!" the girl said indignantly. "You're on your own after this!"

"Ah, no worries." Cedric smirked. "I won't get caught next time!"

The mole ran as the girl chased him off, yelling at him all the way. When they reached a small garden a fair distance away, they laughed and collapsed on the ground. Though the girl's smile soon faded, real concern on her face. "Hey... Do you wanna stay with me and the Guardians tonight? Or... even for a while, if I could convince them?"

Cedric glanced at her, then flopped onto his back in the grass. "Nah, it's fine."

She looked at him dubiously. "You sure?"

"Yeah." The mole looked somber a moment, but he grinned. "It violates my nomadic principles. No setting foot in a house. No permanency. Just scavenging, wandering."

The girl glanced over, but the Guardians and the soldiers appeared to be heading for home without her. They sat there quietly together as the sun headed up the sky. She couldn't imagine that, really. Well, things and people were always changing around her, coming into her life only to fade away again, slip through her fingers.

But, at least, that old rickety house on the coast, the deserted, rocky little beach, the quiet town... Even the ugly school she called Hell on Earth... That was always there, always the same. It was that stability that had stopped her from going completely insane.

"So..." the girl said after a while. "That means you'll leave Warfang someday, right?"

Cedric nodded quietly. "Someday." He paused for a minute, and his glasses glinted as he turned his head to the sky. "But I like Warfang, and I like you and the group. So I'll stick around for a while. I've already been here a year, right?" The boy smiled at her, and she felt like he meant it.

Soon enough, they parted ways, the girl leaving him a gift of a tomato–Volteer and Cyril had the rest of the food–and she caught up with them soon enough. They were heading through a quiet part of town, and most of the guards seemed to have split off.

"So," Cyril said when he saw her skipping up behind them, "Where did you meet such a ragamuffin?"

The girl snorted. "He's a misfit." She looked down at the yellow bricks as she walked. "Like me."

"Hmph." The ice Guardian looked at her. "You really know how to choose 'em, don't you?"

"Sure do. It's why I'm friends with you." The girl snickered, but before the insulted-looking Cyril could yell at her, she said quickly, "Anyway, it's more like they chose me..." She smiled, looking at their spot on the wall as she rounded the bend leading to their neighborhood.

The girl remembered that she hadn't been to the Meeting in quite a while now... She was always too tired, or too busy getting settled in to her new home. Plus, well, she was kind of scared. She'd never had very many friends, so the prospect of people really wanting her around was an odd one.

But now, seeing Cedric again, it was about time to pay a visit again, wasn't it? He seemed to really enjoy her presence, so maybe she wouldn't just be a third–fifth wheel. Maybe... As strange an idea as it was... Maybe they really liked her.

Tonight, she thought, clutching her bag of tomatoes closer. Auren's ice blue eyes popped into her mind. I'll go again tonight.

She glanced at the bags Cyril and Volteer carried. But first, she'd have to steal some food.