Tatianna paced around the city carrying everything she owned. A cardboard box, a dagger, and her torn, once blue blanket. She knew that she couldn’t stay in the northern side of the city, as that was where the white mansion stood. To the west was where the rapists and murderers preyed on the innocent, she never wanted to visit that side of the city again. The South had little to offer in the shelter and water compartment, but the food was often found in that dump part of the city. That left only the Eastern reaches, albeit there were quite a few other waifs like herself there, most were running on drugs. So high that they wouldn’t even notice her. Not the ideal place, but the only option she had left. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A drop of water fell upon her head, she looked up towards the grey clouds that had amassed throughout the day. It would be raining heavily anon, she needed to find somewhere sheltered, or else she would die of the cold like so many others. Had she not been so trepidacious of death, she would have died a long time ago. This fear drove her to extremes in order to survive, but survive she had.

In the distance, she saw a diminutive alleyway between two shops that had side doors. Doors with a ceiling overhanging above them. She decided that it would do for now as she settled in front of one of the doors. The position was not ideal, but it would suffice for time being. It kept her dry and that was all she could ask for.

The rain started to pelt down upon the roof with no penitence, she huddled into her blanket and the cloak that hung onto her shoulder trying to stay warm. The Northern weather of Crénia was incontrovertibly fierce, the summer lasting for such a scintilla of time before the winter snow closed in. Sometimes she wished she could go to the south, to view its warm beaches and lush green forests, but the Elves would never allow her into their kingdom. They would most likely chuck her out to rot like everyone else. Perhaps she could go to the scavenger lands…maybe in her dreams.

Tatianna reached out to the rain with her frozen hands, cupping the painfully cold water and bringing it to her mouth. Its chill burning her throat, but her thirst overtook her need to stop the pain. She wished she had a way to store it. Such a shame to waste so much water, it was agonising to view it cascading down the street drains. This place was a piece of shit, perpetually taunting her in the cruelest manners.

She shut her eyes, she swore she could optically discern it. Pulchritudinous waves of water, as translucent as glass hitting against the white sand beaches. It seemed so much better than the frozen water lakes that surrounded her. Even if she had only heard about it from passing strangers, she saw it in her dreams.

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A new day, a new adventure. That was the first thing she thought when she woke. The sun’s light glistened off of the wet streets. The rain had facilitated, but the cold had not. Tatianna looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching her.

“Oi!” A male voice called out, “Get away from my shop!”

Tatianna was quick to her feet. She was gone before she could listen to the number of rigorous comments he had installed for the ‘stupid, street rat.’

She kicked at a puddle on the ground, washing some of the mud off her feet. She only bathed during the summer months, it was too gelid in the winter to risk it, so she smelt and felt like a pile of dog faeces. No wonder that man at the mansion was so revolted by her, she was revolted by herself. Any sane person would look at her with the same disgust she saw herself with.

She ran a hand through her knotted long caramel hair, finger brushing only did so much. Of course, she had debated cutting it with her dagger, but her life changed so often constantly shifting before she had time to settle. She relished in having something aeonian.

A burst of crackling cachinnation caught her attention and she turned to face a tall skinny man standing alone on the other side of the street. He had tattered apparel like her own and was speaking with himself. His gaze locked onto her own.

“What are you looking at whore?” he yelled out to Tatianna, obviously not high enough to be completely nescient of his surroundings like she had hoped he would be.

Not wasting any time on him she kept moving forward. “Hey, girl!” he called out for her, but she did not pay him one second of her attention. She turned a corner and ran straight into another person unfortunate enough to not only lose his home but also his mind to drugs.

His hands grabbed firmly onto her, curling his long bony fingers around her biceps. “Oh, you’re pretty. Creepy eyes though, but you can just shut them,” he said to her. Had she ended up on the western side of the city without realising? She wondered, noticing the considerable quantity of creepy men. The one standing before her had a scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes. His hands started to wander from her shoulders and down her body.

She wasted no time to grab onto the hilt of her dagger and thrust it into his leg. His dirty hands immediately let go of her. “Bitch!” he yelled in agony. She pulled her knife out of his leg then sliced at his most valued body part. She then sheathed her dagger and walked away from the cursing man who called out his list of threats to her. As repugnant as he was, she did not wish to kill him, now he won’t be able to use his favourite toy. He won’t be able to have a family of his own. He would suffer than die alone as he deserved.

Eventually, she found herself a nice mute corner and she became painfully aware of her lack of food for the day. She sighed and pulled out her dagger, running it along her pants to emaculate the blood off it. The blade was not something a person of her heritage should possess. The steel was patterned exhibiting the layers of steel folded over one another. The handle was a coalescence of bone and wood from some tree far from Avalla.

She couldn’t recollect who gave it to her, she postulated it was her parents as she had owned it for as long as she could remember. Why would they give her such a fancy blade then leave her to the street to rot? It made no sense to her. Nothing did.

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