Red To Black

Chapter One

"Stop her!" A man's voice rang out through the crowded streets. People milled about, tripping and stomping on each other as they hustled along. The air carried the heavy scent of fruit and spices, filling the streets with wonderful smells. God bless Market Day, she whispered to herself, before slipping around the street corner. In her hand she clutched a small purse, heavy in her rough hands. She grinned as she heard its contents jingle and clack inside.

Following a path only she knew, she made her way through the dark, damp alleyways of the city she called her own. She paused to consider. Well, there's still a couple hours before I have to meet up with the boys, she thought, leaning her back against the grimy wall. Besides, Tink's needing a new pair of shoes. She grinned her signature grin, a challenge to the world, before effortlessly breaking into a silent run. Still in motion, she tucked the purse under her dress, tying it tight to her side.

Swinging around the corner, she grabbed onto a metal ladder only half attached to its foundation, and swiftly ascended the crabby old building. Swiftly, she smiled. She loved the word. Perhaps that was why she had chosen her last name like she did. Robin Swift. She had always found it fitting, and she had every reason to choose it. After all, a new surname meant a new life, one without her good-for-nothing parents.

She jumped across the rooftops, a flashing silhouette against the pale blue sky. She landed silently on fading tiles before ducking down hurriedly. Pressing her body flat, she listened to the furious voice beneath her.

"I told you to FIND her, you worthless mutt! How DARE you disobey me!" Robin held back a wince as she heard the man seethe not so quietly below. She knew that voice, had heard it just moments ago. The Mayor. A chill swept through her body at the mere thought of him.

"I beg your forgiveness, your Excellency. She disappeared in the crowd, just like before. Even my best men aren't able to track her in such chaos as the Market Day rush." A timid, unfamiliar man spoke slowly, and with great caution, as if he was afraid of invoking more rath upon himself.

She rolled her eyes. This must be the new Chief of Defense. What a shoe-kissing piece of scum. She glared at where she assumed he was kneeling. Not that anything he did now mattered. The whole town knew he'd be six feet under by the end of the week. They never last long, not after I decide to show my face. Not once have they caught me. Hah! And after one failure, maybe two if they're lucky, they get the rope. Not publicly, of course, but we all know by the way they turn up in the rivers that it was his doing. And us lovely street urchins, shadow children as they say, get blamed as always. Not that we mind too much. Keeps the faint-hearted and foolhardy folk away.

She realized with a start that she was missing all the action, lost in her thoughts as she was. She heard muffled cries and a sharp slap. Sighing, she decided to slink away while the Mayor was distracted. Robin always wondered why he even bothered beating the poor men. It's not like they were going to be around long enough to learn their lesson.

Slowly edging her way along, the roof tiles digging into her skin, she finally made it away from the men. Stretching out her tough, thin legs, she ached to burst into a sprint. But she saved her strength, reminding herself she'd be on the run soon enough. She slid down the drain pipe, dropping into a silent crouch before sneaking silently forward.

A couple feet away, a young cobbler's apprentice was sitting on a stool, completely unaware. He was shining a pair of shoes, humming a carefree little tune to himself. She shook her head, muttering to herself, Another rich country lad just in from Bratio? Do these folks ever learn? This'll be a peice of cake.

He even turned his back to her, reaching into a basket to grab something. Robin was on him in an instant, gagging and tying him before he even knew she was there. Dusting off her hands, she stowed him behind a nearby trash can and began to look at the contents of his basket. An apple, a fresh-looking sandwich, and a cookie stared back at her, as well as some normal shoe supplies. She pocketed the food, as well as some cord and spare shoe material, in the secret pockets which she had sown into her dark dress herself. Looking dubiously at the shoes he had been shining, she set them back on the stool. Too fancy, not to mention too big. She needed children's galoshes, as well as some boots for herself. She had given hers away recently, a trade for medicine for one of the children.