Page 5 of The Last One
So much for inconspicuous.
“Sweet cheese,” a man shouts, gawking at me. “She’s almost naked.”
Two young women gasp and back away.
“What is it?” a young man wonders with tears of fear in his eyes.
“Have you ever seen a girl that tall?” an old woman puzzles.
“Her hair,” a young man whispers. “It’s so…so…”
“She’s one of them.”
“They’re on their way.”
“Supreme will protect us.”
“Father Knete! Find Father Knete!”
“Whatnerve,”they’re all tutting.
Yeah, well…I woke up like this. In bare feet, I’ve chased a thief and found this village, all while being tall and naked.
What nerve?
I’mallnerve.
A tawny-skinned woman with long, coiled hair stands out in this field of faces. She wears a blue-and-green shawl, and she sparkles. Her glow is not amber-colored, though. No, her light reminds me of the nightstar’s silvery halo.
Seated on a stool before her, a red-faced woman weaves a straw basket. She doesn’t see or sense me staring at her.
There she is—Thief!—cradling her injured hand as she leaves the merchant to greet a copper-haired girl wearing a sage-green dress too dramatic for this doomed village. Another burst of color, that red hair and green frock. The two young women walk arm in arm, and other than the basket weavers, they’re the only people who haven’t noticed my arrival.
Above me, the skies turn slate as the clouds from outside this town catch up like they’re following me. These clouds make the villagers look up to the sky in wonder. I glare at those clouds, hoping that the rain waits until I’ve completed my task and returned to…to…wherever I call home.
I slip from cart to cart, creeping toward the two women, skulking past stands of shriveled carrots and carts of hideous skirts and smocks. Hiding behind a cart painted with circles and paddles and filled with jewel-colored vials, I watch as the bandit marches up to another merchant, holding up my glove for his inspection.
This merchant tries to tug my glove onto his filthy hand.
No, no, no, absolutely not!
Furious, I pop up and accidentally knock over a display of vials, which break and spill liquids that smell of mint and fish.
The vendor selling these now-broken vials is a frog-faced man with boils on his neck. He shakes his plump fist at me and yells, “Cabbagehead!”
Cabbagehead?Try harder, sir.I roll my eyes and ignore his curse. I have no time for him today. I go back to following the thief.
“…justlyingthere,” the bandit says to her green-frocked friend, my poor glove still in her grasp, “in the middle of the forest, wearing this killer outfit. So, I said to myself, ‘Olivia, you willkickyourself for leaving all that haul on this poor girl’s corpse, especially since these clothes will bring us closer to leaving this stupid town.’ Obviously, she wasn’t dead, so stop worrying about that. I didn’t cause her to pass out, so stop worrying aboutthat. Shedidhurt me, practically crushed my hand. My pinkie feels better, thank Supreme. But look at this!”
The bandit pauses long enough to grab some of the leather of my vest, gathering it beneath her breasts. “I can either take it all in, since she was bigger and taller than me,orI can make an entirely new outfit using all the fabric from the cloak. We could sell it for a hundred geld.Twohundred geld.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do things like that,” Copperhair murmurs. “Yes, these items will fetch a fine price, but it’s like you’re a grave robber.”
“I told you,” the thief says, her confidence flagging, “she wasn’t dead. I promise you.”
Copperhair sighs. “Itisa nice vest. And the cloak—I absolutely love the color.”
Hearing these two talk about my possessions makes my vision shard, and I now see countless bragging thieves walking arm in arm with countless copper-haired girls. I make a choice and pounce, shoving the clearest bragging thief.
