The next morning had been the same as any other, bakers would put out their fresh rolls; the seafood vender setting out the fresh catch that had been caught earlier that morning, fruit venders polishing their apples and pears in an attempt to attract customers to their kiosks with bright colors and fresh appeal, they figured nothing could go wrong.

That saying applied to anyone, unless you were a street rat.

And of course the street rats had barely any luck. The poor tried to eat and they were punished. That's just how the system worked. The lucky ones got at least a nibble, rare if they got more. Children rummaged through trash heaps and piles, not wanting to risk the various stands that laid before them, knowing what would happen to them if anything went wrong. Lost limbs were a common practice in Agrabah.

That was just the problem, something always went wrong.

True enough as it was, that was just how things had to be (for the time being). The raven haired boy the street mouse had met the evening before laid on top of one of the canopy's that hung above a melon stand, the monkey carefully chose a cantaloupe, and curled back up to the one called Aladdin.

The female on the other hand shoved her hands into her pockets, her eyes roamed from countertop to countertop, like a woman with money doing her daily window shopping, with the exception of actually having money. There was something in particular she had been looking for, a certain something, or even a particular someone. Although at the moment, even she wasn't so sure.

"Now where could it- aha, here we go," she murmured to herself, facial features lighting up as she neared her destination; the various baked goods practically screamed out her name. She crept up, moved a dish of cinnamon rolls and picked herself up upon the sturdy counter, crossing her legs like she had seen the elegant middle class woman do, trying to copy their sophisticated technique. She waited until the baker turned to face her.

"Oh! Savannah!" He jumped, blinking at her as though he had seen an apparition, or something of the sort.

The girl grinned and wiggled her fingers, "Morning."

"And what brings you to my humble stand this morning?"

He was a fresh, baby faced young man, so there was no telling just how old he was. Savannah and the baker often played a game of guessing a near estimate of his age to receive a roll. It was his way of her earning food to avoid trouble with the law. His chocolate orbs smiled at the girl in front of him, while his hands shooed her off of his clean counter.

Nevertheless, he was a family friend; one of her mothers, to be exact. Even if he couldn't have taken Savannah in after her mother's passing, he would do anything to protect Desiree's daughter.

"I just came to see how you were doing," she said, not budging from her spot. "I haven't seen you for quite some time."

The elder man nodded as this was true. He set some rolls into a basket, hot buns in another. Once more, he attempted to shoo her off of his counter, needing the space. Finally, the girl obliged and shifted off, leaning against it for support. The smell of those rolls was driving her insane. Her stomach pulled inward for her to take, she had to will her self-control.

"Would you like one?" He questioned, perhaps even able to hear her stomach roar. "You know the drill."

Savannah stared long and hard at the baker, taking note of wrinkles, especially around the eyes. But, it wasn't enough. She knew he was older than thirty, younger than fifty. "I'm going to say forty-seven."

The man appeared playfully offended. "My girl, that is far too old."

"Thirty-nine?"

"Now you're not even trying. One more guess."

Savannah paused and gave him a hard stare, studying and analyzing, trying to make at least the effort he was seeking. "Forty-one."

The man chuckled and offered her the tray. "Just one for not trying," he teased.

And one was more than enough. Finding the fluffiest one, she bit into it, savoring the steam and the warm flavor, slipping into her own world for just a moment before drawing back into reality. Savannah glanced back at the man who had been giving a soft chuckle.

"You remind me more and more of your mother every time I see you, my dear," he said as he gazed at her fondly. "How I do miss her so." Savannah possessed her mother's eyes, so warm and inviting. The years of her being alone, no doubt, hardened them. The baker could not blame her.

"Yeah, you and me both," she said softly. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't leave a lily for her."

Although their chat had abruptly ended when the elder man from the day prior had tumbled into the girl's arms, she fell onto her side. Venders glanced at the commotion at the baker's stand; the owner himself wasn't sure whether there was anything he could do. The answer came clear as one of the palace guards charged after the elderly man. He mentally urged for Savannah to get up quickly.

"Stop! You! Girl! Don't let him get away!"

The senior stared at her fretful, and fear embedded in his weathered eyes. Savannah stared at him, curious why someone who seemed more well off than she would be in such a predicament. However, she hadn't the time to ask questions. Upon clasping his hand into her own, Savannah helped him up and hurried off to hide. The guards weren't ignorant, they recognized her from yesterday. Once they had realized, the head of the guards saw this as an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

Up on the canopy, Abu scrambled to the tip of the pole that held the cloth together, watching the riot begin to peel into the streets. "Abu, what're you looking at?" Aladdin asked, peering over with his furry friend, seeing the damsel in distress with her father, perhaps? Whoever, Aladdin figured that he felt obligated to assist; it's what his heart told him.

Dashing and bouncing from canopy to awning, he followed the girl. She was swift, even with the old man in tow. He felt he thought too soon as the guards followed right behind her, cornered her at a dead end. That's what they had planned; it seemed, from the very beginning.

Agrabah's marketplace had been engraved in their skulls, as sad as that could be perceived. Aladdin pondered for a moment, climbing up the side of the building, he loosened the tie to a clothes line, zipping down, and snagging the girl around her waist, taking her up with him, along with the old man whose hand had gripped tight to the young woman's with no intention of letting go. The guards followed on a hot pursuit until, well, misfortune struck them face first into a wagon of camel manure.

Aladdin chortled; setting the three of them onto a balcony of a house whose occupants weren't home, much to their luck.

"Are you alright?" Savannah turned to the old man, who had taken a seat on the cold, stone floor. He nodded weakly, his body trembling. She not dared to ask why he had been running from them.

"Seems like you can't seem to stay out of trouble, huh?" Aladdin guffawed as he brushed himself off of scattered dust and debris; Abu snickered in small increments for a petite animal.

"Very funny, I'll have you know-" She turned around, ceasing in mid sentence to stare in awe at the young man who had saved her ass the previous day. "Aladdin…"