The world beyond the orphanage was harsher than Len thought, but that only added to her interest and passion. Every step felt like freedom.
Freedom, smelled like fresh air filled with the scent of sweetness similar to that of flowers and wet grass, looked like sunsets from roofs and trees, and felt like dew and woods when she would sit on the rooftop of a wooden house or when her back brushes to the tree's wood when she lies down a tree.
And with freedom in Len's hands, she could dream of anything, while knowing even if she dreamed for the stars, she will get them, break and drag them down to her no matter what. Len perspective is understandable, where she grew in a place with set tall stones that had pointy sharp edges, everyday she must outdo others and herself. The orphanage was where adults broke her, not physically, but mentally. Everyday she felt something was cracking under her skin, when she presses her anger, frustration and tears inside of her, not daring to speak back to those adults. But all that changed her, sho can now control and manipulate some of those Monsters. And that had a sweet pleasure on it's own.
She liked the taste of freedom, freedom tasted like rainwater and quiteness. She found corners to rest in, learned which markets left scraps at night, which alleys weren't patrolled. It was fun, like how she read about the world in those books that had limited pages, But freedom is also cruel when you're only eleven, and luck runs out fast.
It was dusk when three men from the market place cornered her near the harbor. Drunk, desperate, the stink of smoke clinging to their clothes. Their grins sharp with hunger and cruelty.
"Pretty little thing, dressed too fine for these streets," one slurred, while the other two giggled with thier old mature voice.
Len fought like a cornered wolf. She landed one solid strike with broken glass to one of the men's knees that sent the first man on the ground, screaming in pain. Clawed at the second until his arm bled, and dodged the knife of the third — but the blade still caught her. Not enough to cut, but enough to crack. Pain exploded through her ribs. The bones around her lungs screamed with every breath, white-hot agony tearing through her chest. It felt like shards of the orphanage wall had lodged inside her, a curse that would follow her even in death. But worse than the pain, was the rage boiling through her veins, hot enough to burn her eyes red as she clenched her fists, choking back tears.
She stood, with every step scars form, with every breath feels like boiling magma inside her chest. Her body is hot with agony, but she didn't think twice from running at her full speed, she tired them but they will be soon after her. The pain might have killed her that day, but her will to survive and bring down every star inwhiat beautiful sky under her feet kept her running at full speed.
Her small body stumbled into an alley, heart pounding, breath ragged. Every inhale burned like fire, every exhale rattled like glass breaking. She pressed herself into the shadows, Four days. That's how long Len survived outside before the world decided to break her.
The alley wasn't empty. Homeless men and women lurked in the dark. Their eyes caught on her clothes — too fine, too clean for the streets. The place was dirty. The place reeked of alcohol and smoke filling the place.
She heard whispers starting.
"She's rich," one muttered.
"Take her," another growled.
Rough hands reached toward her—
But then — a shout.
Boots on stone. The gleam of silver.
Royal guards burst into the alley. Steel clashed, men scattered. The world blurred in Len's vision, until all she saw was the faint elegant figure watching her, not a soldier, but a boy. Fourteen, dressed too neatly for the streets. His cold gaze locked on her with something sharp behind those eyes.
> "Take her," his voice commanded.Calm like a Freezing cold soothing current in the heat of the summer.