The Dreamer [CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING]

The Little Thief

1900

If people thought shouting out your name on a run while holding up a fist would make you stop, they thought wrong.

For Cat, she ran even faster.

Her arm wrapped over a small jingling purse. With that much weight, she found it quite strange how easy it was to take it unnoticed. Until some annoyingly observant person exposed her out.

“Stop, thief!”

Crowds whooped their heads to see the chase, a lady yelping out of her way as she skidded to a turn around a sharp corner.

“Sorry,” she murmured, only looking back for a second. The lady appeared to be unharmed, but the man was catching up. She slid into an open shop, dodging a gasping plump man and dove straight through the window.

Cat's small build allowed her to slip easily, rolling and landing on her feet out of practice. She aimed for the alleyways, ditching the old coat over her the other way to throw them off her heels.

She kept to close to the sides--the untouched soil far from the main roads might left prints for a following. But care came with a lacking in speed, a precise movement on edge while balancing to the walls. She knew they wouldn't get thrown off for long.

Her neck craned when her gaze whipped up to the rooftops. An easy way, but not particularly hidden. The building had bricks sticking out, but she wasn't sure of its strength.

Even with her experience, she didn't dare to play the risks.
There must be a safer way.

She smiled as an idea struck in her brain, taking off her worn boots and clutched them with the wallet.

She ran on the ground, around and around until she saw a path; a rusty ladder lain by the railings. She stopped, did another run for confusion, then stepped on the ladder with her boots on.

“Mom would throw a fit,” she muttered, hoisting herself up while the profit had been safe under her arms. “It's just soil.”

Cat stayed close to the deep perimeters, choosing tiles and bases that could contain her weight. When she peered over on her toes, she could see the man before with two police officers running back to the coat after getting misled.

Cat laughed, her heart fluttering lightly.

“He took two officers?”

She grinned, quickened her pace as much as one could on a roof. When it came to an end, she halted and crouched. Her fingers slid as she leaned onward, catching on a steel rail before leaping off.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as her gaze settled on a familiar corner of the poor streets. She made her way with only a stroll, the man and the rush of adrenaline through her limbs long gone.

An itch clawed under her toes, sweat trickling down her back though the hair on her skin rose from the dampness of the wind.

The hidden alley was dark and sullen, street urchin lingering on broken, scribbled sidewalks. It stunk like rotten cabbage, but it was her home.

A woman leaned against the dirty wall. Her mud brown curls fell to her shoulders, her eyelids drooping in slumber. A blanket laid over her lap, hiding what was--or wasn't there.

“Mom,” she smiled, crouching down to her knees. She hid the wallet under the blanket, and kissed the woman's cheek. “I'm back.”

Cat sprawled beside the woman she called Mom, throwing her boots off that the clack echoed between the narrow space.

She watched her toes--all ten of them wriggling like fat worms. Her soles were red, caked in crumbles of dirt. “Huh, maybe it is more than soil.”

She tipped her head back, watching the face of her mother figure. Her dark skin glistened to the bare sunlight. Even with no blood relations, or different looks, she had been a mother to her, and Cat could never repay her enough.

Her head bowed forward, so Cat held it and pushed gently to her own shoulder instead. “You must be tired, mom.”

Her seven-fingered fiddling hands do more harm than good, especially when she got angry. Mom had to clean everything up after her mess.
And she knew enough how naughty she was.

She intertwined her fingers through Mom's, holding on to it like it was the only thing keeping her from falling down an abyss--which wasn't far from the truth.

Few years ago, she could've gone insane or dead, left starving in snow. But a kind street woman took her in, and it had been so ever since.

The cold hand she squeezed was the very same that treated her wounds and taught her to ste--wait.

Cold.
She gasped. Too cold.

No. What if-
She leaned closer, one hand touching the woman's chest. She closed her eyes, waited for a breath. Or two.
Please.

Dup-dap, she wanted to hear. A scolding to her behaviour. A groan in woke.
Anything.

But nothing came.
Nothing.

When she raised her head, she could finally see the rich lips turning pale and blue. Nothing of her moved, a whole world and soul taken away.

Her heart felt like it crashed with a thump. This wasn't what a nine-year-old was supposed to go through.
Another branch fell from under her. Another ice cracked beneath her feet.

Cat wanted the tears to fall.
She wanted to cry and wail in anguish and desperation. She deserved to mourn.

But she felt nothing.
Empty.

Just like what was left of Mom.

Here's the first glimpse of our second protagonist, Cat! Poor girl...what do you think of her? What do you think will happen to her when she grows up?

Interesting fact, she was the first ever (and my utmost favorite) character I've ever thought of (back in 2013), just with a different personality and abilities.

Feedback is always welcome! Remember to vote if you like it. Thanks for reading!