She’s running through the streets.

The streets belong to the vibrant city of Daisygate, but she doesn’t know it.

The people with the iron masks are chasing her.

She doesn’t know why.

She’s learned to hide herself in layers upon layers of clothes as the inhabitants of this, to her, strange city always react to her with fear, curiosity, unease whenever they see her skin, her eyes, her ears, her hair.

She’s smaller than most of them.

They think her a child of the gutter when she hides in her rags.

Good.

At least they don’t look at her as some alien creature.

The iron masked pursuiters come around the corner behind her.

They haven’t seen her.

If she just stays quite in the shadow, they might pass.

They are maybe 20 arm’s lengths away, 15, now 10.

The sun rises and the rays illuminates where she stands. All the Gods be damned. None of them are her friend anyway.

Her allegiance are to older powers long gone from this world.

So why is she still here?

The iron masks are 5 arm’s lengths away.

She can’t run. Her legs cannot carry her anymore.

A door opens behind her and large hands grab her from behind and pulls her through.

The man closes the door quickly and quietly.

He says something.

She doesn’t understand, but his whispering voice and caring eyes, calms her.

She doesn’t know him, but he’s a friend in a city full of would-be enemies. Curious.

The iron masks pass outside.

Everything is suddenly calm, quite, even safe.

When did she last stop running? When did she last rest?

She collapses, blissfully asleep before she even hit the ground.