Chapter 1

Glowing blue eyes struggled to view the night sky. They could see almost anything in the dark, but what good is vision without a vision, a motive to continue? In all ways but that, she was common, born facing nothing but survival. Her legs were pine needles, shrunk from exhaustion as she opened her pocket watch, scratches of age clearly visible, and the clock unreadable at this point. Somewhat scorched, the pocket watch hung on her palms, begging for her security - serenity. She internally promised it possible, clutching it in both arms. Her legs, tired of running, gave in and collapsed along with its cargo, and the girl fell asleep in the heap of garbage in the alley.

The night appeared everlasting, but she could hardly tell the difference with her vision. She continued to sit in the dark, gasping for air as her stomach begged once more for sustenance. Years of malnourishment shattered her circadian rhythm, her general perception of time whisking away along with her faith in ever having what she called "the good life."

There was a rustle. After hearing nothing for 6 hours, her eyes instantly perked up in reaction. Paranoia overwhelmed her. What's a lonely guttersnipe to do if a noise would have the intention of harm? Nothing but be prepared. Her vertical, cat-like pupil slits dilated, revealing more light into her eyes, clearing her vision out of instinct and fear. Her eyes, while belonging to a small, helpless girl, provided a strong intimidation factor. Those glowing blue eyes without a body in the dark would provide enough fear factor if accompanied by random uncoordinated rustling of all the trash bags next to her.

The noise amplified, and eventually became more clear to her. Drunken men way past their bedtime conversed near the alley, their speech incomprehensible; regardless, the girl remained silent: a single noise could jeopardize her position. She tried not to think of what multiple drunken men would do to a special kind of child like her. Sell her into underground slavery? Make her dance for eternity? No, her legs simply couldn't move. She glanced at her legs fearfully in complete silence, judging their pitiful condition.

"Yeah, said it worth 12,000 credits."

Her head jolted up. 12,000 credits? Drunken men were strange and tended to bend the truth, but the diction of the man's voice, disregarding the strong Nordic accent, held a lot of brevity. She further tried to comprehend their drink-happy jargon.

"Keep it in me home, yep," the same voice elaborated. "Got me quite the catch, lucky me." He hiccupped while she heard the most audible swig of a flask she ever heard and revolted, but her disgust turned into a silent shriek when the man bellowed into the sky, "SO YE BETTER NOT FOLLOW ME HOME! YE HEAR?!"

As the man began to leave with his posse, and windows lit up in response to the noise; the girl cared little of the drunk's empty threat now. With newfound hope, her legs' pain and exhaustion seemed to disappear, and she slowly began to move from her spot. The now awake citizens opened their windows in response to the drunkard's threat and cursed at them to little retaliation. Seemingly, the girl would have to wait until the 2 AM fuss ceased. 12,000 credits. Consider her life officially started once she gets a hold of that. A common trend of guttersnipes was thievery; however, this girl looked for more than a loaf of stale bread from the farmer's market. Her ambition and knack for items of high value and risk would curse her for as long as she lives, but tonight perhaps this test would truly give her the opportunity she so desired.

Following the active bunch while cloaked in darkness, the brave young soul methodically yet sloppily snuck about the town, nearly slipping on a puddle in the small square. Several minutes of travelling went by and her lack of energy started to get the better of her, but she remained steadfast, clinging to the reserves of the reward's motivation. It was at this point she realized that she was being watched by silhouetted figures overhead, roaming about the rooftops, creating shadows from the moonlight which hit the street. The poor girl was so tired she was hallucinating. She shook her head back and forth until she was dizzy to "fix" it, and the next time she looked at the roofs near her the figures were gone. Relieved, she continued closely following the drunken men. Slowly the posse dispersed one by one as their after-party concluded, isolating the man who claimed to house the young girl's future prospects. The seemingly stocky, bearded, and burly man walked two blocks to his nearby home, a neat little cottage. Unbeknownst to him, however, the cottage would house two tonight for a short while, and the little girl would never be starved again.