Prompt: A word or two (or 10). Go to this word generator website and generate 10 random words. Your work must use at least two. Bonus point if you use all 10. Be sure to list the words you generate, even if you don't use all of them.

Reach floor jaded flat fry infringe branch grass reply plausible

Move!

Instinct sounded the warning, and she barely ducked the hand reaching for her shoulder. A step to the right put them out of reach, then a low scoop caught her bag's strap to let her sprint down the alley. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Inspecting today's finds with an open alley to her back had been stupid, and stupidity killed. She knew better than to let someone get that close.

Or follow her anywhere of import. A glance backwards found an older girl loping after her. Mouth moving as if calling for Ruby to wait, the girl's red curls bounced with the steady pace that kept her in sight without catching up. She would have to lose the girl before returning to her nest, as usual. But how?

The maze. That might work, and she swung a hard left at the next intersection to dive across the sea of legs. Her shorter stature made weaving through the press to reach the gutter much easier than the older girl could manage, and she barely caught a glimpse of red when she faded back into the shadows. That would help cement her freedom.

Not guarantee it, though. She would use her lead and the maze for that. A series of twists and turns quickly buried her trail in the labyrinthine set of alleys her parents had always called the maze. Stymied by the sheer complexity, the older girl would never be able to find her here.

Left. Then right. Crawl beneath a low ceiling. Jump a wall. An apparent dead end held footholds in the bricks, and less than thirty minutes after the close call found her on a roof. She would ensure her safety from here, where she could watch the alley floor two storeys down as she ate the loaf of bread nicked from the nearest baker's rubbish bin.

The fresh bread. Surprise stared at the piece habit had ripped much too firmly. Why in the world had the baker left fresh bread in a bin outside?

She had no idea, nor did the why truly matter when the fluffy sweetness of the rare treat nearly melted in her mouth. Food would always be rare, but fresh food was something to savor. Slow bites took much longer than normal to finish her meal, but she enjoyed every mouthful. She would remember to check that bakery again in a few days.

If she kept her freedom. Movement caught her attention below, and she quickly laid flat on her stomach. She had expected the red-haired girl to give up by now, not inspect the bricks as if able to follow her trail over bare cobblestone, but even the stubborn strangers never thought to look up. This one would move along soon enough.

Or not. Measured steps wandered ever closer. One finger traced a spot on the far wall. Her gaze noted the overturned rubbish bit and the stray brick now atop a pallet. Ruby ducked out of sight before the girl could look up. Was she about to climb to the roof as well?

No. Or at least not by the same footholds. The older girl calmly walked some fifty feet down the alley to the set of handholds Father had preferred. Whoever had made that ladder had been older, and the small holes should have been too far apart for anyone but an adult to manage. Wary fear made her edge away as the girl crested the gutter. Her safe place had become a trap. She would never reach the ground without the girl catching up.

Slow steps brought the girl ever closer, displaying her palms the way the grown-ups did when they pretended no harm. A gentle smile joined unintelligible words.

Ruby merely edged further away. She would resume the chase over the rooftops if necessary.

The smile faltered, briefly, but the girl did not leave. Another series of words—maybe a question?—became gradual efforts to sit on the shingles. Only when the girl reached Ruby's level did she crawl to sit about five feet away. Two fingers pulled several scraps of paper and a pencil from a jacket pocket, and a moment's writing slid one scrap towards her. Periphery guarded against trouble as she leaned forward slightly.

"Can you read?"

Yes. And write. And figure. Mum had seen to that. Father, too, somewhat. She nodded.

The paper retreated to add another line.

"My name is Doris. Can you hear? Or speak?"

No. And yes, though she preferred not to. Volume control had grown increasingly difficult as her ears died.

"Do you want a home? I know a doctor that might be able to help your hearing, but even if he can't, I live in a courtyard with fifty other kids. We always have room for one more."

Home. She could have—

No. Firm refusal shoved the hope away. She had no money. Nothing to offer in exchange for medical care and shelter. Better to stay alone. Safer, too. Trusting nobody would always be simpler than figuring out who had a hidden agenda.

"It's safe," the looping scrawl promised next, "and you don't need money. We have food, shelter, and work. We can find you some new clothes, if you want, and maybe even a toy. Everyone contributes how they can. Some take care of the littles. Some work for Mr. Holmes. Some hunt for food. Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson, and Mrs. Hudson help when needed, but we mostly take care of ourselves. You would be welcome."

Not possible. Nobody had wanted her since that creeper had taken her parents. The peelers had proven themselves useless, and her shrew-like aunt had only sneered at her and closed the door in her face. She had run from the peelers to escape the orphanage.

Then her hearing had died, along with any chance of apprenticing herself to some career. No, this girl could not want her. Could not help her, either. She shook her head.

Doris studied her for a long moment, then another line filled the scrap.

"How about a trial period? We can see if Doctor Watson can help, I'll tell you more about the Irregulars, and you can see the courtyard. If you still don't like it after a few days, you can leave. No one will try to stop you. Or hurt you."

A…trial? Effort fought to keep surprise from her expression. She could…try it? And still leave later? No one promised that. Everywhere else had been a "yes, no, make up your mind and go," as Father said.

So why did this girl offer the ability to leave?

The page flipped over to write on the back. "I mean it. Come with me. Give it a few days. If you don't like it, feel unsafe, whatever, you can leave. We don't force anyone to join us."

Could she do that? Should she do that? Should she chance someone taking exception to Doris' offer? A group of fifty would surely have older boys more than capable of trapping her.

Just as any group would have several others willing to honor her desire to leave, which meant she need only identify the two groups and stay near the latter. While she had long grown accustomed to being alone, she also remembered the contentedness of family. Did she have any reason to think Doris lied to her?

No. Doris had kept her distance, found an alternate method of communication, and not demanded anything yet. She would keep her eyes open, but she could chance this. For now. A slow nod prompted the biggest smile Ruby had ever seen.

And a flurry of notes describing the "Irregulars" on their slow walk towards Baker Street. The next few days would be an adventure, if nothing else.

Hope you enjoyed :)

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