The city didn't welcome her. It swallowed her.
By the time the sun rose over Hastings, Luna had wandered into its streets like a ghost. Her clothes were torn, her hair matted, and her feet blistered from walking barefoot on broken pavement. Nobody stopped to ask if she was okay. Nobody even looked at her twice.
She was just another shadow.
Her stomach twisted violently, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in days. Each step felt heavier than the last. She stopped in front of a bakery, the smell of fresh bread drifting out like a cruel joke. People went in and out with paper bags, laughter on their lips, while Luna stood outside like a starving stray.
Her hand shook as she reached for the door—but she froze. She had no money. Nothing but the clothes on her back. What was she supposed to do? Beg? Steal?
The thought disgusted her. But hunger has no pride.
She lingered by the corner, eyes darting. A boy not much older than her walked out with a bag of pastries, one sticking out of the top. Her body moved before her mind did. In a single desperate motion, she snatched it and ran.
"Hey! Thief!"
Her legs burned as she darted down an alley, clutching the bread like it was treasure. The boy's voice faded, but the shame didn't. She slid to the ground behind a dumpster, chest heaving, and tore into the bread with trembling hands. Each bite felt like fire and relief all at once.
When it was gone, she pressed her back against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She had never stolen in her life. But survival doesn't care about rules.
Her thoughts drifted back to the man—the guardian, or whatever he was. "Life will demand everything from you." She didn't realize it would start this quickly.
"Is this who I am now?" she whispered to herself. "A thief? A beggar?"
The alley answered with silence.
Then—footsteps.
Luna's head snapped up. A figure was standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, wrapped in a long coat, face hidden beneath a hood. For a terrifying moment, she thought it was one of the men from before, come to drag her back.
Her body tensed, ready to run.
But then, he spoke. His voice was low, rough, but not unkind.
"You're not very good at stealing."
Luna's breath caught. Her fingers curled around the empty bread wrapper. She didn't answer.
The man took a slow step closer. "If you keep this up, someone's going to catch you. And then, little girl… you won't get a second chance."
Her heart pounded. Who was he? A stranger? A threat? A savior?
She didn't know.
All she knew was that her story was far from over.