A Rogue's Restraints

Chapter One: The 11 O' Clock Stage

I’ll never get used the feeling of being sold. That’s moment you realize how truly worthless you are. No flowery words can change that. The price around my neck is not for me. I am simply an item. A thing to be used. A thing to be taken advantage of.

  Getting a good vantage point is the most important part of a job. How is everyone supposed to function if they don’t know what is happening around them?

I heard a soft chuckle below me and glanced down to see Theon crouching in the underbrush nearby. Theon was a gangly boy of fifteen (same as me at the time). He had messy brown hair with light brown eyes, so light and warm, they almost appeared golden.

“What’s so funny?” I hissed.

“You look like a tipsy bird perched up there.” He whispered back. I rolled my eyes. I was about to point out that he was in the exact same position, just in underbrush, instead of in a tree. But I was cut off by a sharp shush from a different position not far away. I glanced down at Willa. She was crouched down as well, ready to spring. She shared her brother's dark hair that normally tumbled down her back. Today it was tucked into a cap. It was necessary. If we were fully spotted, a thieving group with two boys and a young girl (Willa was thirteen), it would make us more recognizable. There were many crews in the area, but it was especially rare to find girls, and girls as young as her, among them.

My mind sharpened back to focus on what was happening. Though I suppose you must have some idea of the landscape of my realm. There’s Coldside and Swelterside. One half of my world is a frozen tundra and the other half is sandy and unbearably hot. In the middle is where most of civilization has settled (I know shocking). But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t civilization further out. These towns (and sometimes cities, are called Oases). Currently, Theon, Willa, and I were in Gresdand. An Oasis on Coldside on the outskirts, but not so far away from the Inside or Viscera (which is the slang for the core civilizations) that the weather was unbearable.

I felt my cloak ripple around me and shivered against the chilly air. The only reason Oases like Gesdand were possible were because of pockets. For unknown reasons there were pockets in the atmosphere where the weather was warmer than the world around it. The pockets got warmer and dryer the closer you got to Swelterside. For how chilly it was here, it could have been a lot worse. It was barely warm enough for trees and plants to grow. It was like we were in a perpetual autumn. The leaves around me glistened a fiery orange as they moved with the breeze.

But obviously you don’t care about the color of the trees! You’re probably wondering what in Blackheart’s name (Ha! I just swore by my name. That still feels weird) we were doing out in the cold, crouching in the bushes, or in my case a tree. Well settle down I’ll tell you.

A grin slowly spread across my face when I heard the clop and the rattle of a carriage approaching from down the road. I sensed the same anticipation build from my companions below as well. I slowly pulled an arrow from the quiver strapped to my back and notched it to my short bow. Don’t let good ol’ Theo tell you different, I am an excellent shot.

When the stagecoach came into view, I let the arrow fly. It whistled softly flying perfectly between the branches and shot straight into the coachman’s neck. Theon and Willa sprang into action. Willa ran forward seizing the reins from the now dead coachman and stopping the spooked horses as I jumped lithely from the tree. Yes, lithely. Anyone who’s seen me jump from a tree would agree.

Theon cut the trunks free that were strapped to the back of the coach. There likely wasn’t anything valuable in them, but it didn't hurt to check. If our informant was to be trusted there weren’t typical patrons onboard at all.