Blood Rust

Chapter One

Rue dashed through the dirty streets of the city, a blunt knife held in one hand, a stolen loaf of bread in the other. Behind her was the sound of pursuit- several city guards, and the enraged shoutings of the merchant she had stolen the bread from.

Rue grinned.

She loved the chase.

Keeping careful balance, she flung herself at the wall of a brick home, scrabbling at the rough side before heaving herself onto the balcony and then onto the roof. The guards bellowed below her, watching the adolescent theif take to the roof tops. They knew as well as she did that chasing her across the rooves was futile.

Still, she ran, jumping across gaps between buildings, a silly grin plastered across her face from the pure rush of energy. 

Finally, panting, she dropped into an alley and looked left and right before tearing into the hunk of bread with hunger. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a find this good. Even if the bread was stale, it was more food than she'd eaten in the whole of last week.

Some part of her mind told her that because of that she should probably save it, but her hunger got the best of her and before she knew it, the bread was gone and she was staring at her empty palms again. 

She would have liked to go back to the markets and see if she could grab more- she was pretty sure she could, if she really wanted to- but it was almost dusk, and there would be more devious thieves than a 9 year old child out soon.

Sighing, she turned back to the alley's maze of discarded boxes and trash. The trash had ben here for ages- nobody had really set up a good garbage route yet- and behind it she had manged to scrape up a shelter of sorts.

If you called a plastic bag stretched over a few sticks much of a shelter.

She patted down the mess of cardboard and other trash, curling up and pulling the newspapers over her shoulder. The make-shift mattress did little to ward off the seeping chill from the asphalt below, but it was better than in the open streets. 

Rue looked at the wavering trash bag above her head. 

She had lived like this since she was 7. Her parents had been killed by one of the gangs that had roamed the streets.

She didn't really miss them. Of course, she would have liked to have them around, but she liked the freedom of her street life. Once you got to know the cities ups and downs, it was a nice, welcoming place.

Much better, she thought, than having to work the brothels or go to some school every day. She'd peeked in on the activities of both, and was sorely convinced that she preferred her rogue-like lifestyle more.

She shifted slightly so she could see the stars rise over the wrecked, beautiful city before she fell asleep.