The Blade of Dawn

Chapter 3

I run until I think I am far enough away from the shop to slow down.

I duck behind a bakery into an alleyway, catch my breath, and try to think.

I can't run forever.

I need a plan.

I watch people wander though the streets while I try to collect my thoughts.

A woman selling flowers catches my eye. Every time an interested customer stops at her shop and talks to her, all of the flowers on display burst open, exploding with color.

Next to the flower shop, there is a man is selling ice. The ice is sitting in the sun, yet it isn't melting.

There is definitely some sort of magic in this place.

The yellow sky starts to show hints of orange and red, and shadows begin to appear and stretch along the cobblestone paths.

There are only few more hours until nightfall.

Staying hidden will be easier soon.

My white t-shirt and jeans make it hard to blend in. All of the women I have seen so far are wearing long flowing dresses. I need to find something to change into so I don't stand out so much.

I have no money and I can't risk talking to someone and arousing their suspicions.

My only choice if I want a dress is to steal one.

A few street vendors start packing up for the night, piling their wares into crates and boxes. If I am going to steal a dress, this is my chance.

I slide out of the alley and see a woman across the street folding dresses and putting them into boxes. I watch her for a few minutes and then duck into the alley closest to her shop.

My palms begin to sweat.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, take a deep breath, and step out into the main street.

Then my resolve crumbles.

I can't bring myself to go through with it.

I vowed never to steal again when Aunt Joan adopted me. I was six years old and I had been lying and stealing my whole life just to get by. But when I met Aunt Joan, everything changed. She made me want to be good. She treated me differently than any adult ever had.

Aunt Joan isn't my aunt, or anyone else's for that matter. She picked up the nickname "Aunt Joan" at some point and it stuck, probably because she treats everyone she meets like family. Aunt Joan was sixty-four years old when she adopted me. Now she is seventy-four.

Seventy-four years old.

A sharp pain shoots through my chest as the thought hits me that Aunt Joan won't be around forever.

I suddenly feel very alone.

The streets become increasingly empty as I stand on the curb lost in my thoughts.

The sun continues to sink in the sky and I realize I am too exposed. I need to seek cover. I am about to return to the alley when I hear shouting.

A man points at me.

"That's her," he calls out to someone behind him.

I will my legs forward and take off into the alley. I run down one street, then another and another. For all I know, I am going in circles, but I have to keep moving.

Shouts and footsteps rise up from all directions.

I feel like a rat in a maze.

I turn sharply into a narrow alleyway. I am trying to find a place to stop and hide when I slam into an enormous man. I bounce off of him like a ping pong ball and crash to the ground. I land in a broken heap on the ground.

"Where are you going so quickly?" the man growls. He reaches down and effortlessly pulls me to my feet by my neck.

I am trapped.