She didn't have to kill them. They had not yet shown up in this crowded street, and she knew she had plenty of time to climb to the roofs of these buildings and make her escape.

But these men had made a fool of her, made her helpless, planned to take advantage of her.

She would see them suffer for their mistake; this, she vowed.

She waited silently, motionless, in the hay bale. It had been left not far from where the dead thief lay now, and she was sure that his companions would find a way around her little roadblock to lend a hand to their comrade, although they would arrive to find their efforts had been in vain.

She shifted her weight impatiently. If only they would show up already!

After what seemed like hours but could only be minutes, she finally heard the sound of running feet, nearing her position. The hay bale was situated atop a horse drawn cart, sans the horse, so she had to peek over the edge of the cart's wall to see what was happening. She saw the two thieves enter the alleyway. They were dressed nearly identically to each other, and it would have been impossible to tell them apart, if one was not considerably bulkier than the other. It was the man she had distracted with the stone. She would have to take him out of the fight first. She was in luck-he was on the lead thief's right side, so he would pass by the cart on their way.

Before long, they sighted the body, lying in a pool of gore.

"She got him, too?" The bigger thief asked, breathless. "Who the hell is she?"

"Not what she seems, that's for sure," the smaller man replied. "And probably worth a lot of money to the right buyer."

"We've gotta go help him!" The hulking thief exclaimed, starting towards the body. His friend stopped him by placing the flat of his sword against his chest.

"No," He said. "It could be a trap. She could be waiting for us."

"But where'd she go?" The big one inquired. "There's no other way off this street!"

"We would have passed her," His companion agreed. "She must be hiding. Find her, but don't kill her. I got plans for her."

The girl wrinkled her nose in disgust. The world would be better without men like these. Her more animalistic instincts took over as she drew her dagger and waited, muscles tensed and ready to strike.

They spread out, scanning the maze of junk piled up against the stone walls of the buildings that lined the street, eyes peeled for any movement. The big one was steadily moving closer to her position. She held her breath so it would not move the hay and give her away.

He drew closer and closer until he was right on top of the cart, and she could wait no longer. He turned around to say something to the other man, but he never got the words out. With only the rustling of hay to mark her attack, she exploded out of the pile and wrapped her hands around his neck. She yanked back so that he was taken off balance, bending backwards over the wall of the cart. She raised her dagger and slammed it home, right at the base of the neck. He gave a slight choking cry, then was still. She hauled him into the hay bale before herself leaping silently to the ground.

She brandished her dagger and stepped towards the final thief.

"You're good," he said without turning around. "The hay bale? Genius. I barely even heard you deal with that lumbering oaf. So underhanded! So cowardly!"

"Rich talk, coming from a thief."

At this, the man finally turned to face her, smiling coldly. "Ah, I will not deny what I am! I am the world's greatest coward, but a coward that lives to fight, and steal, another day!"

"We'll see about that."

"Oh, was that a threat? I think I'm starting to like you! If I didn't have to kill you, I'd try recruiting you."

"As if I'd join your little gang. I have better things to be doing."

"Like killing innocent children in the street?'

"He wasn't innocent. You know that as well as I do. I know what he was carrying in that bag of his."

"Why'd you do it, anyway? Pretty little thing like you?"

"I have my reasons."

"Ah, playing hard to get, are we?" He pointed his blade at the girl. "I guess I'll just have to pull it out of you. I have a few deaths to avenge, after all."
He wasted no time. He stepped forward and slashed at the girl's face. She ducked it and stepped forward, lunging with the dagger, but her foe nimbly twisted his body so that it sailed harmlessly past. He came at her again, swinging the blade with fervor. But this time, it was as if he were toying with her, not even trying for a kill. Taunts would not work here.

She focused on parrying and dodging her attacks, and soon, the air was ablaze with blue sparks and the din of clashing metal. She realized that he was slowly driving her back towards the wall, where he would have the advantage. She grit her teeth and stood her ground as best as she was able. The man's devious fighting style was riddled with feints and false strikes, belying his twisted personality. Whenever the girl was able to get a blow in, it was countered with practiced ease; the blade turned away and a vicious counterattack was thrown at her. She was forced to back off again or lose her head.

As she was forced onto the defensive again, she began to lose hope. Up until now, she had been merely lucky. This man was obviously well trained in the sword, and she could not hope to beat him without some assistance.

But no great idea came to her, and before long, she was forced to devote her entire focus to the increasingly difficult task of deflecting her opponent's dancing blade.

In one fell swoop, the man used the point of his sword to pry the dagger from the girl's hands, sending it flying. It embedded itself into a wooden crate not far off with a dull thunk. With the dagger out of the way at last, he slashed upwards across his body, drawing the blade across the girl's exposed thigh, carving a long scarlet line up its length. She gasped in agony, and every step sent new bolts of pain racing up her leg. She fell to one knee.

The man approached his fallen opponent, a triumphant grin on his face. He placed a boot on the girl's chest and shoved, knocking her on her back. "That's it, huh?" he said through his sneer. "I guess you weren't anything special after all." He knelt next to the breathless girl. "What are you, anyway? Some kinda hybrid? Which was the cat, your mother or your father?" He said with a grin.

She spat in his face.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't done that, sweetheart." He said, wiping it away, and raising his sword. "To hell with you. You're more trouble than you're worth." He raised his sword to pierce her heart.

The girl closed her eyes, seemingly resigned to her fate. Then, at the back of her mind, something called to her. It wasn't a voice, exactly-it was more of an impulse, a suggestion.

She listened to it.

Projecting her will outward, she willed that mysterious force she had felt earlier to come to her. It seemed to obey her command. In an instant, she felt it bloom in her mind, and spread through all parts of her body. It was as if someone had dumped a gallon of ice water into her veins.

Her eyelids flickered open as her hands burst into flames. But it was no natural flame; they were ice-blue and did not burn her in the slightest, and they shone with an incandescent glow.

It was magic.

"What the hell?" the thief cried, recoiling.

The girl raised her arms and willed the flames forward. Like bullets from a gun, they rocketed away from her hands and slammed into the thief's chest, sending him sprawling. The girl jumped to her feet and cast a glance at the man. Blue flames licked at a large black hole in his chest and had engulfed the hood of his cloak. If he wasn't dead, he was in no shape to give chase, she judged.

She took the dagger from where it had landed and fled.