Excerpt: Blade of the Rose

Kat sat on the ground with her thin arms wrapped around her knees. Her clothes were ragged and she shivered as the wind bit into the flesh exposed by various tears in the fabric. She wiggled her dirty toes, trying to bring some feeling back into them.

Her small bowl sat on the concrete steps beside her. It was cold and the people rushing through the streets were in too much of a hurry to be home and warm to pay attention to a hungry little street waif. She had tried for a little while anyway, but the cold sapped her energy.

She tried to imagine being warm. In her fantasy, she had woolen socks and fuzzy mittens. As long as she was dreaming, she decided to give herself a full belly and a new hat.

She was really getting into her fantasy, filling it with what she'd eaten and the color of her scarf, when it was all shattered by a familiar yell.

Kat felt what color their was drain from her face, and her arms tightened. With quickening breath, she turned her head to look down the street.

Three big boys, of about her brother's age, were making their way towards her. Their eyes were fastened on her, and each of their faces held a cruel smirk.

“Hey, kid!” one of them yelled when he noticed she had seen them.

Kat's belly did a flip. Her chest tightened in fear. She sprang to her feet and jumped from the steps.

“Oh, look,” one of the other boys said, “she's gonna try to run from us. She must want to keep her money for herself. Maybe we should teach her to share.”

Kat had been beaten up by these three thugs enough times for these words to strike her with terror. At first, the terror froze her. She watched her fate coming towards her with her mouth open and her fists clenched.

Then, some streak of self preservation prodded her, and she forced down her fear enough to tell her legs to run.

The boys laughed, and she could hear their feet pounding after her. Her mind kept playing images of the last time they caught her. Her black eye. Her swollen lip. The pain. She was shaking at the memories, but she forced her legs to move faster and faster.

It was hard to see. The street in front of her was blurred from the tears she was holding back. If she started crying, she wouldn't be able to stop, and they'd catch her for sure.

She veered off to the left, down an alley she knew connected to a virtual maze of streets and passageways. Surely, she could get lost among the thousands of hiding holes it offered.

The footsteps followed her in, but Kat didn't dare to look back. Even a second's hesitation could mean a bad beating.

This thought spurred her onward. She ran between two narrow buildings and into a side lane.

“Let's split up and find that little brat. She musta got quite a haul to run like that.”

Kat whimpered and ran down another alley. Two pairs of footfalls got fainter as they moved away, but one was still on her trail.

*Maybe they'll kill me this time,* flashed through her mind. If they did, who would take care of Libin?

She ran blindly for a few minutes, her heart pounding in her ears. She still held the sobs in her chest, making it tight and hard to breathe.

Dashing into the next alleyway, she saw an old, beat up wooden door was ajar. She slipped through and into the warehouse beyond, pulling the door closed behind her.

The warehouse was filled with barrels. They were piled close together, with only narrow walkways between them. Looking up, they went as far as Kat could see. The tops of the piles were shrouded in darkness. She hesitated a moment because the barrels frightened her. But the bullies frightened her more.

Kat began to run, intent on getting as far away from the door as possible. She ducked among the barrels, through a crack barely big enough for her little body.

The dim light from the warehouse's one dusty window faded here, and she could just barely see the outlines of the barrels. She was no longer able to run, so she felt her way along, going deeper and deeper inside.

It seemed like hours before she felt safe enough to stop moving. By then, she was tired and her chest hurt from holding back the tears.

She sank down to the floor, huddled between two stacks of barrels. The floor was cold beneath her, and it sank through her clothes and into her flesh.

Kat gulped once before letting go. Her breath choked in her throat as a sob caught there. Her chest tightened further, almost as if it would squeeze her to death, and the tears overflowed. Pain and fear ripped through her misery wracked body. It felt as if she were being torn apart.

She wished Libin were there. If he were, he would gather her up and hold her, and everything would be okay. He always made everything okay.

She cried and cried until she had no tears left. Then, she just sat there and rocked, her arms wrapped around her body for warmth and comfort. Convulsions still tore at her, and her chest still heaved. She was shivering from both emotion and chill. Everything was dark, and she wondered if she would die here, alone in the dark.

She sat there for a long, long time. She sat there until she could feel the stacks of barrels pressing in on her. Her mind saw them falling and crushing her like an insignificant bug. Another kind of panic gripped her.

She got up, determined not to lose control. It was hard when she realized that she had no idea where the door was.

She started forward in a random direction, determined to find her way out somehow.

She walked and walked and walked. Her courage was failing, but still she walked. Her eyes strained to see something, anything to tell her she was getting near the way out. Soon, it seemed as if she had been walking forever and that anything before that was a dream. She had to keep telling herself that there really were bullies. There really were ships and water. There really were streets and food and warmth. Most of all, there really was a Libin, with his messy yellow hair and the hints of dimples in his thin cheeks. There really was someone who could smile at her and make everything better, no matter how cold or hungry she was.

She didn't dare to call for help. What if the bullies were still out there, or what if the warehouse owner hated kids? Kids disappeared from these streets all the time, and no one cared.

Eventually, her legs grew tired. After that, they became numb. Still, she continued to put one in front of the other, searching. By then, she was sure she would never find her way out. She knew she would walk until she could not walk any more. Then, she would fall over and die. But she didn't give up. She would never give up.