) The title is... only temporary, I think, or maybe it will stick. Who knows? Halfway through the story I will most likely be inspired to change it.
It seems incredibly short on here, doesn't it? It is longer on paper, believe me.
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Chapter One
Mazey barreled into the man and knocked his face down hard on the street. She fumbled quickly through his pockets, and before he even realized what had happened, she was already gone and sprinting through the crowd with his purse of gold.
The crowd was always fast; always moving, and she was enveloped by the colors and noise of the people around her. No one would catch her in this crowd of people. No one would even suspect her as a thief.
She pulled her dark hood up, shielding her eyes from the beating sun as a sly smile spread across her pale face. She was satisfied with her plunder, smirking as she squeezed the coins together in her palm, hearing the metal clink and scrape together. In a kingdom where gold was valued more than people, she happily took it wherever it could be found.
"Why do you steal?" her father had once asked her. She was but a child; ignorant and foolish, and was easily caught by him.
"Because I am good at it," was her innocent reply. His questions did not hurt her, for he did not inflect upon them a feeling of reprimand or dislike, but that of a strong and genuine curiosity.
"And why are you good at it? Did someone teach you?" he had bent down to her and stroked her hair, smiling warmly at her, his curiosity bubbling.
She had blushed then and looked down at her toes, wiggling them on her feet, "I just am, Father. Nobody taught me."
"Oh?" he said, "and since nobody has taught you, how do you know you are good?"
At this she raised her eyes. There was a twinkle in them, like a star; two pale-green lights looking up at her father.
"Because they can't see me," she said.
He laughed at her then, but warmly, "You may be small, my child, but not so small that you cannot be seen."
She cocked her head, confused as to why her father would laugh at her.
"Is this why you love me, Father?" she lightly placed her hands by her father's eyes, "Is it because you do not know what I am?"
"What do you mean?" he held her sweet hands to his face, "Of course I love you. I would love you no matter what you were."
"Would you still love me, then, if I told you why they cannot see me?"
"Even then-"
A hard hand slammed down on her shoulder, clenching and pushing her down in pain. The crowd blurred and twisted as terror shot though her veins.
"You thought you could get away, didn't you, thief?"
Mazey scrambled to get away from the man by flailing her arms free of his hold, but he stopped her easily by flipping down her hood and then yanking back on her tangled mass of ebony hair in one swift motion.
"Let me go!" she shrieked, "I did nothing to you!" her hands slapped at his, but he did not budge.
"Liar!" the man yelled, hearing his gold jingling on her person.
Visions of her father flashed through her mind. What would it do to him to have her taken away? How would he survive without her care?
"Let me go," she sobbed, finally dropping her hands, "I'll give you your money." She shakily drew the pouch from underneath her ratted cape. "Just let me go."
He took the money but continued his tight hold on her, "Now why would I do that?"
A cord within her snapped, "Let me go!" with all of the strength she had, she elbowed him hard in the groin, doubling him over. He gasped and let go of her hair.
Like a lithe deer, she darted off, pushing past people as fast as she could. He was chasing her, and she knew it from the exclamations of men and women behind her as the man knocked them down at her pursuit.
She ran faster and weaved through the streets as intricately as possible, but this man was filled with so much rage that he continued to follow her.
Then a giant rock of despair fell deep in her stomach as she looked back at him once more, and Mazey realized she had to do the one thing her father had ever asked her not to.
Her ears bubbled and popped, and the world around her quickly changed to whites and grays. Mazey could feel her skin growing light, and her spine shivered as she started to phase from view. Shadows curled around her fingers in wispy strands, and soon they entangled her entire body. They pulsed around her, moving and twisting into a cocoon.
Then the shadows scattered, and Mazey had vanished.
She was gone.
Screams erupted in the crowd. Women ran and men stumbled backwards. A merchant’s stand collapsed as a child fell back on it, and it let loose giant striped melons that were trampled as they rolled across the street.
Amidst the chaos, her chaser had stopped cold. He did not run. He did not scream and flee. He simply stood, tilting his head and pursing his lips.
Mazey felt a tug at the recesses of her mind, a slight pull on her thoughts. Light yet noticed, it was like a child’s pulling at the corner of her dress or shirt. She caught her breath.
His amber eyes glowed with a savage inner fire as his gaze remained still.
She could feel the tugging grow stronger until a thought that was not her own pierced her mind. It was crisp and clear, loud enough to hear above the clamor within the market. A chill crawled down her spine.
I was hoping you’d find me.
