Here is a taste of the first chapter where I introduce the main character. I hope it pulls you into the world I created!
1
The Crescent Thief
She was first sighted by the light of a crescent moon.
BOOM! A crackle of dry thunder rolled over the lands. The Earth was shrouded in darkness. A cool autumn breeze swept over the trees. The waning moon peered out from behind scattered clouds as they thickened in the blackened sky. Tendrils of its silvery light caressed the countryside below, illuminating everything it touched. All was kissed by its light except for a figure that skulked through the night, hungering for prey.
The silver rays washed over the city of Wihlmsted's stone buildings and trickled down the mixture of thatch and shingled roofs. The streets were mostly dirt and a few cobbled with stone. Autumn had begun to stir, and the leaves blossomed in riots of red, oranges, and yellows. The nightlife had started to recede, and the roads were quiet. Within all this contrasting dark and light, the figure lurked in the shadows. It was at the edge of Wihlmsted, hovering just beyond the sight of the night watchmen.
The silhouette glided smoothly across the dirt roads, examining each home for even the slightest possibility of entry. The figure stepped gingerly around a corner. The moonlight swept across the individual, revealing it to be a young woman. Her straight chestnut brown hair fell past her shoulders and down her back. She lifted the hood of her cloak from over her deep brown eyes, which she often shielded. As she selected a house, the fire from a nearby lamppost captured the sliver of gold and green in her right eye that just barely lined her iris edge, it glowed. She nimbly positioned herself on a crate near the windows' ledge dipping back into the darkness.
Her fingers curled around the ledge and she gracefully slid her foot into a nook in the stone wall. She leaned her upper body against the thick sill and gently slid a pick through a slot in the shutters. With precision that came from years of practice, she picked the lock on the window, letting it swing open and invite her inside. The moonlight spilled into the room, silhouetting her figure across the floor.
Sliding easily into the dwelling, the young woman crouched down observing the layout of the den. The fire was dying in the stone hearth. The embers glowed warmly and just bright enough to cast dark shadows across the room. Her eyes scanned the area, adjusting to the change in light. They glinted when she spotted a big wooden table set against the far wall. She stood upright and slowly approached the slab. She grabbed a chunk of bread and slipped it into the satchel on her hip. She then nibbled on a bit of cheese from the counter.
She eyed the soup, just off the hearth. She collected a small bowl and dipped into the cauldron. It was a small amount but could prove to be filling. She quickly downed the rest of the stew and sighed with satisfaction. Her hunger satiated. She began to rummage through the home, occasionally glancing at the doors leading to other parts of the house. She pocketed small items, leaving behind the presence of tampering. As she considered her options, the choice was made for her the moment her eyes came to rest on the object nestled in the hallway.
A trunk sat out of the way, in a corner, at the furthest end of the house near the back door. She cautiously crept towards the chest. A flicker of movement caught her eye just beyond. She held her breath as she realized what she'd seen was the flick of a sleeping dog's tail. It was slumbering under a sitting chair at the edge of the main gathering place. The small mutt raised its head and yawned with a whimper and a stretch, which revealed it from under the seat.
She advanced quietly and placed a reassuring hand on its head. The dog licked her palm as if it had known her and she gave a joyful smile. She stroked it gently, lulling it back to sleep. She remembered the dogs in her village and how she would visit them to play. Its deep brown coat was soft and warm. Its dark brown eyes were heavy, and its tail wagged lazily as she held the creature's face in her hands. She massaged its ears in her fingers. The pup yawned once more then laid to rest again. The young woman relished in the moment.
She continued to the chest and knelt in front of its old wooden frame. She analyzed the lock. She looked back to the dog and it curled tightly under the chair edge. She turned to the chest again. Her slender hand pulled out her pick and pension wrench from a snug holder on the wrist of her glove. She often thought of buying full gloves to keep her fingers warm, yet it would interfere with her workings. She pushed the wrench into the slot and applied pressure until she heard a small click. Then the slim and fragile pick was placed strategically in the lock until it hit the tumblers. She had grown accustomed to using this pick but may have chosen another if she had remembered that it was brittle with age. She then began gently turning the pick feeling for the familiar click of a tumbler.
A shuffling from behind the nearby door grabbed her attention. A wave of panic came over her, the number of watchmen in this town was beyond the count. She recognized that it was more likely that she would be captured than for her to escape. Her hand shifted to the left. The lock jammed, and the pick snapped in two. A chill went up her spine as a shadow appeared under the door. She quickly grabbed her wrench and half the broken pick and jumped backward preparing to swing herself out the window.
In her moment of haste, she had forgotten the slumbering hound. As she quickly moved back, her heel came down on the dog's tail causing it to yelp loudly in pain. The squealing dog knocked over the chair and skirted away. The young woman tripped backward. She caught herself and barreled towards the window.
The door to the back of the house swung open and a half-dazed man came stumbling into the room yelling, "Who goes there!"
All he saw was a cloaked figure drop from his window and his belongings disarranged. He ran to the window and leaned out, furiously screaming into the darkness. "Crescent Thief! Iarann will find you!"
The town guards searched everywhere that night, but the girl in the hood was gone. She passed soundlessly by site after site of her previous conquests. She ran so fast her feet were barely touching the ground. The voice of the enraged citizen echoed through the streets. She did not have to imagine how much she was hated just for trying to survive. She would hide in the shadows until daybreak, almost wishing that they knew her by name, Aylith Wulfrin.
Comments