Evangeline - The Young Villain

Chapter I: Evangeline, the young villain of Yorkshire

All was cold, and it was the coldest day of the year in all of Yorkshire to be experienced yet - the fourth of November. Though, the snow, was only just a'coming, only just a'rising into thin heaps on the already-frosted grass. It would take a few three to four hours, before the next round of little quantity snowflakes would fall from the sky and melt on the ground, into a slush waiting to trip the next rushing, unsuspecting soul who would come racing down the street, whether it be that they were being chased or had a particular hasty delivery to make.
Not that this rising weather was a bad matter; for the vast majority of the city proceeded to happily enjoy and be grateful for it, for it was those whom had been waiting a long while enough for it to arrive, whilst these previous times were accompanied by the scolding sun and almost un-breathable air. However, there was still on the other hand the minority whom would not enjoy it very so much; because they either took a simple better liking to warm weather even if it went on for almost the entire year; or they were just the bitter type, who would always be so stubborn as to not dare try to like any weather befalling the city, and be so negative as to take everything as an uncalled-for curse of God.
Amongst all these people; all these different personalities that inhabited Yorkshire - there was one of the smallest percentage whom had no opinion on the year-round weather at all; not even the different frostiness, because they were too busy occupied with their passionate life of a particular interest, and this person is the one on whom we will begin to tell a story, and go on until we meet the great 'end', which is not the end, but surely; if not hopefully, will be considered enough by all to make for a great adventure telling.
This particular former with a great story ahead, happened to be pacing swiftly down the countryside path on the way to the main city area - when just that icy slush was up ahead and awaiting her brisk-moving feet on the ground. On top of the accident about to occur, this young'un Yorkshire inhabitant was carrying two small, heavy sacks - and they were as full as previous panic-spent time allowed for them to be with fine slivers. Fine, fine items of sliver - some pieces big, some pieces small, and the small some more valuable than the big.
Yes, may I answer the predictable question - this youth was a thief; it would've either been very highly unlikely that a person only one year older than an elder child; a thirteen year old, would've been trusted to have or had the money to purchase the large amount that they carried of shiny valuables; and wearing those scuffed, muddy, worn-out boots too.
Splashes and splashes into the nearer ice that had already turned into simple ice-water - but in just a second then, up came the slush, so closely, so sudden -

A trip up. A leap into the air. An unintentional letting go of the achieved valuables in both their sacks - the greatest amount of treasures, as the thirteen year-old fell with the entry of her face into the concrete ground.
This may have also been the day that bad but well-deserved karma had decided to give it's all to the youth - because just as this happened, a young gentleman, perhaps not even a man but an elder youth, came riding up the path on his bicycle - oddly enough choosing that form of transport, as the accident could've occurred to him just as well.
Before the youth; boy, had proceeded to leap straight off his bicycle at the appalling sight of a thief - but also a very young thief - he had widened his eyes, his nostrils had flared and he let out a shrill shriek; quite higher-pitched than what the usual young man would express.
Coming to a stop of riding, the boy mounted his vehicle over onto the frosted grass aside of the path, and hurried further over towards the young girl.
"Do you happen to be alright, young'un?" asked the boy, inspecting all that he could see of the sacks and what had fallen out of them.
After having her face forced into the harsh concrete by gravity, the girl was in a state accompanied by many emotions all at once: worry of who he could be - if he was an undercover police officer perchance; the obvious pain of the fall, and the depressing assuming that none of this would go positively; she surely deserved to be imprisoned for stealing as a first, but then for the amount and value she had stole, she might as well be hanged.
Slowly lifting her head from the ground, the emotionally confused at-the-moment youth, with her mouth closed but lips blue, and eyes wide but wanting to close took a look at the boy, still with the sun in her way of sight, before gathering all the might she could to pull herself up onto her knees.
"I - I must go, no time to -"
The girl was stopped within a matter of seconds, partially for beginning to answer rather rudely from the boy's perspective, and partially because she was not going to easily wriggle her way out of this incident - like she did always manage to do quite well in most bad situations.
No time for talking until I ask where you are from, and why on earth you happened to get yourself into this - and where did all these fine silver pieces come from?"
The much younger youth wrinkled up her nose and stood. How on earth was this bad'un to lie to every question the seemingly inquisitive boy had asked in the short time that she felt she had to think.
"I...I should not be an answering to strangers! My mother always told me not too!" the small villain proceeded to tell a first lie; she in fact, though perhaps not at all surprising for her status and rebellious acts, was motherless, and more than that, had no father figure either.
Please do not be shy with me," the senior's voice lowered and so did he his eyebrows "You do so deserve to be questioned - my likely mind's calculations tell me that you are a scandalous little thief! One deserving of nothing more than a trip to the police station - or perhaps you would like to be sent to the workhouse just a few miles from here; they'll treat and give you just as you should have."
At these words, the determined thirteen-year-old was not prepared to be used as a suspected easy target of 'saddened material' - and she, also quite offended but certainly not to heart - stood up straight on her feet, raised her chest by mustering all the air she could into her lungs, and taking a step forward, therefore then a great deal closer to the boy's face, and spoke in the bravest-sounding tone she could: "How dare you judge a young woman, I, without any proper knowledge that I am certainly a foolish one whom would steal?"
The boy took a few steps away from the girl as her face which held a rather intimidating look at this moment had pushed up closer to his by herself whilst she gave the reply in an angrily protesting manner; and he proceeded to walk to the side of her, then look down to inspect with his beady green eyes, a sack which had a silver spoon and necklace protruding from it.
"May I then inspect this sack, young madam, and shall I have the privilege to know where you come from now that I have asked such a small lady of great standard in a manner of which she deserves?"
At this verbal irony, the junior had no idea how to react at first, showing this by scrunching up her nose and standing up silently straight for a few seconds whilst glaring at the boy; but she had for certain a short temper, and was easily aggravated, therefore was not to be respectful to this 'funny' boy at all. There was only one thing she knew how to do, it being the only thing she truly cared about doing even if it meant leaving the well stolen-for silvers behind, and that was to flee away from this difficult situation.
"I will not, good sir, waist my time standing 'ere. My mother - eh, parents, will be arriving very soon to find me, if I do not return upon the time they have asked for me home," the girl slowly began to pace back and fourth as she said this.
The boy, just as he was to let himself pick up the sack without allowance, rose a little higher on his feet as he looked back up at the girl - and with a new look in his eyes, sparking the fact he was about to get surely aggravated by this stubborn little villain, who was clearly playing stupidious; lying.
"Young'un, listen. I've seen many liars, many-a-time throughout my life - and you are the one whom I can count on, will be the death of me," he arose to his highest, normal height of standing, and walked around to the other side of the thirteen-year-old, "Too many liars up to this time, you see - I once knew a spectacular liar. She was a pretty girl, just like you - but her actions were atrocious. She would hide oh so much from me, from my knowing, and so one day it had come to a point where she had driven me mad. Mad! So mad was I, that I was sure that if I didn't rid of her from my life, she would cause me to bring forward my own suicide. So I had, my dear friend, to rid of her. How did I do that? I am sure you would love to know the gruesome story-"
Again, the senior was interrupted, though it was his intention to be before he would have to tell the story, and remind himself, of what a tragedy it was - but he wasn't given the answer he wanted.
"Tell it, then!" the younger proceeded to look at the elder boy, with no showing of possible fear -(only to aggravate him more) but a showing of longing and excitement in her eyes, to know exactly how this tale went! To play with this senior's feelings as much as possible, until he would hopefully in her thoughts, squirm to death and begin a fit of crying. "Go on, good sir. Let us hear it!"
As it would happen, this rather cruel plan of destruction of the boy's mental worth, was beginning to work, and much quicker than the girl had expected it to; rather instantly. He, all of a sudden, turned his back, to sit on the small log close in the area of which the two occupied. Then, rolling up the sleeves of his light brown coat, giving a quiet sigh and holding his head in his hands for a few seconds, he managed to let a single tear slip, and roll visibly down his cheek - for it was a rather glistening one, one with meaning that he was dreading having to mention, or even begin to think of the saddening topic that had come into his mind.
The youth, looking closely, smiled to herself with some pride as she saw the tear; her arms crossed, and right leg out in front of the left, repeatedly but lightly tapping the ground with her booted foot. With no other words, and as the boy resumed to be sitting in a settled manner for the moment, she picked the nearest sack from the floor, making no haste whatsoever, and gathered the sliver pieces that had fallen out of place - beginning with a knife with the greatest ornate detailing, and then a small vase of the same aesthetic.
"What are you doing? How ignorant of you, how..." the senior simply couldn't find the words to speak as he looked at the terrible junior with disdain at her lack of acknowledgement, or care towards his feeling. He took an awkward rise to his feet, and cleared his throat. "Young'un, you stop this foolish ignorance right away! I will not leave without seeing you rushed down to the police station to get what you deserve with that twisted mentality of yours! My, if only I could call upon those police officers to show up here right away - they'd save me a great deal of hassle, having to drive the stubborn you down to the place with my own weak hands!" he began this rant, and rather oddly, he spoke in a very low comparison to what he was minutes before.
"I don't believe you're a man with the sort of gut to do that. I believe you're weak - you were beginning to cry," said the girl, but not to show that she might understand him - to aggravate him, and evoke his terrible memory to the clearest it could have been evoked in his mind.
The boy could do nothing by now in that moment, except give her the most disgusted, offended look anyone might have ever given her in all her days of rudeness.
With this, and the younger having only one and half packed of the two sacks she had come to the stop with, she (still) proceeded to make a run.
The boy leapt up into the air in an instant rage, and shook his fist as soon as he hit the ground again, beginning to run, but not twice as fast as the rascal had done it.
As the younger of the two, who had now got themselves into a game of cat and mouse, continued to run, she could feel the wind brushing up against her dirty cheek each millisecond; no dark hair in the way of her face except for a few thin strands, which meant nothing; never before had she ran at the speed of this, oddly, for she had gotten herself into much more dangerous situations, but perhaps it was the energy she had mustered from consuming three whole (stolen) mince pies on her way to the wealthy gentleman's house from which she took the silverware.
Past the white, bare trees and the frosted bushes, it did not take her half of the time to run at her pace than it would've taken to take a horse and carriage across the countryside. It was surprising that, in her worn-out, almost-broken-at-the-toe boots, she had not yet slipped on any frost, or traces of ice that lay themselves on the ground...
Then, an unfortunate three miles behind, an angry, troubled boy struggled to run - in his current state of mind, with all that little villain had brought out in him. He, in significant difference in comparison to the skilled junior, had almost tripped and slipped for what must've been at least ten times, upon the small areas of ice that he had passed on the ground. Waving his fist, yelling words only to express all of his anger to the young'un, he did so attract the shocked, unsuspecting looks of the old countryfolk: those that were either out planting seeds for the help of their small-but-growing vegetable gardens, or meeting with another old person of the countryfolk for a conversation of genuine friendliness, whom he bypassed. Getting only looks from these people - only looks of concern, worry or confusion - but soon getting a following from one man whom the boy passed as he took a turn to the right, leading straight up to the centre of the then-cold city of Yorkshire.