She had decided, mainly because she found it amusing, to start calling herself Red. Her given name was, her parents took pains to remind her, a family tradition dating back, literally, several millenia. It couldn’t be properly spoken in English, or any other human language for that matter. But her parents had, when circumstances dictated, called her Abrianna, claiming that it sort of, in the most rudimentary manner, approximated what her true name somewhat represented. Her parents, well all of her kind, really were very serious about names. A name wasn’t some arbitrary formulation of syllables that, when combined, denoted some thing. A name was the spoken representation of the essence of the thing. And it was even more important to living beings because, so she’d been told for as long as she could remember, someone’s name, in some very essential ways, defined who that person was.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about all that. As far as she was concerned, a name was a name. Of course, she hadn’t been calling herself Abrianna since she’d left. After all, it wasn’t a very common name out in the “world” and she didn’t feel like bringing any unnecessary attention her way. Red doubted her family knew where she was. Oh, they probably had their theories about where she had gone, and no doubt there were relatives out scouring the length and breadth of the 12 Realms even now. It was even likely that someone had been sent to the Baron, but that would just be further proof that her family knew nothing about her.

She didn’t care about tradition, or honor, or blood. If she had a nickel for every time she’d had to listen to a lecture about the responsibility of her lineage and carrying on in the footsteps of her ancestors well, she wouldn’t be rich, but she’d have a pretty damn big sack of nickels, that was for sure. Red reflected that she could use a sack of nickels right about now. It had been, what, three weeks since she’d eaten. Which, admittedly, wasn’t even half as long as she could go without food. But she was in an unfamiliar place, all alone, and so the fact that she hadn’t eaten in a while was more depressing than a reason to be concerned for her well being. Sure, she was hungry, but it wasn’t a life threatening hunger…at least, not yet.

Red was lounging in a fairly uncomfortable metal chair, a large black backpack resting in her lap. She was out in front of a store that purveyed coffee and various baked goods. She had spent a great deal of time in front of this coffee store over the past few weeks because it afforded a nice view of one of the major thoroughfares of the city, and there were people running in and out of the coffee vendor at nearly all hours of the day. On this particular day, though, Red was reflecting that she could, very easily, steal some food. Or, even better she could find some unsuspecting person out late at night and just take all of this imaginary person’s money. It wouldn’t even be a challenge, really. But that was the kind of thinking she’d expect from her kind, were any of them in her situation. Actually, for any of her kind but Red the thought process would be more like, “this pathetic human is not fit to bow down in front of me, let alone keep me from nourishing myself, and therefore I will take what I need from him.” If she was being totally honest, in fact, any other of her kind that was in her position would just eat the human.

Red sighed loudly.

“You alright?” asked a short man in his late forties who was exiting the coffee place with a large white cardboard cup clenched in his hand.

Red sat up instinctively, “I am fine, thank you.”

“Sure,” the man nodded, “it’s just that I’ve seen you sitting out here every day for at least two weeks now, and not once have I seen you eat anything. Can I buy you a bagel or something?”

“Bagel?”

The man cocked his head, “You’ve never had a bagel?”

Red shook her head slightly.

“Where are you from?”

“Well…”

“I thought you were English, but I’m pretty sure they have bagels there.”

“Oh no, I’m not from England.”

“South Africa, right?”

Red was not familiar with this South of Africa was, but decided that it sounded nice.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“That makes sense,” the man nodded, “your accent is a little odd.”

Red shrugged.

“So when was the last time you ate something?”

Red considered that the truth was probably not the best option at this moment.

“Two days,” she answered weakly, hoping it didn’t sound too outrageous.

“Well it’s a damn shame that someone so young has to go without something to eat. Come on,” the man waved his hand and turned back toward the entrance of the coffee place, “let’s see what they have inside.”

Red suppressed the grin that was trying to blossom on her face. After all, she was probably five times older than the man, which was still considered on the high end of teenaged by her species’ standards, but it was funny to hear him call her “young.”

“So what did you say your name was?” asked the man as they stood in line.

“Red.”

The man cocked his head slightly, “Runaway, are you?”

Red’s eyebrows shot up briefly but she did not respond.

The man cast an appraising glance over her, “It’s pretty obvious. Your clothes, for instance, aren’t totally worn out, but they’re close.”

It hadn’t occurred to her, during her entire journey, that what she was wearing at the time of her arrival, her personal set of pa-kal armor, would probably be seen as quite odd by the people living here. She hadn’t really had a choice, of course, in donning the armor. She had traveled through the Fen wastes, the most dangerous area in all the Hinterland, and had needed the protection that the pa-kal afforded. There had, in fact, been quite a few things she hadn’t considered.

Red looked down at her choice of attire, which she had been forced to steal. Well, she hadn’t stolen it, so much as traded. She had arrived in this city in the early hours of the morning, which had been fortuitous, since there weren’t a lot of people out at the time, and as she was prowling through what would become her adopted neighborhood she came across a store with a sign atop it that read “Thrift Store.” At the time, she had no idea what “Thrift Store” meant, but she could see clothes hanging inside. It took her all of 10 seconds to break through the glass door, jump inside, grab some clothes and a back pack, drop something on the front counter, and run out. What she dropped was a half krimmel, one of the several legal tenders authorized for use in The Center, though it was minted as part of the official currency of the 12 Realms. She knew that no one would have any idea what it was, or what it was worth, but it did contain 50 drams of pure gold (as well as some other alloys that were not known on earth), which Red knew was prized by the humans. She had ended up with two pairs of faded jeans, a shirt, one dark brown flannel sweater and a pair of very worn, yet oddly comfortable, shoes that were just a bit too big.

“But I’d say,” the man cut through her reverie, “that since you seem to spend all your time sitting in front of a coffee house you probably don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I like it here.”

“You mean here generally,” the man said waving a hand, “or out in front of the Starbucks?”

“Both. Sitting out there let’s me watch the people of this city go about their days. It is very interesting.”

The man’s eyebrows rose slightly, “You speak like your 80, but I’d be damned if you don’t look a day older than 16, how old are you exactly?”

“18.”

Red had been approached by a police officer on her third day in the city and learned that things went much easier if she passed herself off as an “adult.”

“Well I suppose you’ll make your own choices, then” the man shrugged, “if you really are 18. You don’t look like your on drugs, which is good. You should keep it that way. Here you go.”

The man handed Red a small brown paper sack which, upon inspection, was revealed to contain a round, bread like item.

“I thank you for your generosity,” she smiled.

“Not a problem. It was a pleasure to meet you Red, you take care of yourself.”

The man nodded before turning back toward the door and heading out. Red smiled at a young man who was standing behind the counter before lazily making her way back outside and sitting down in her chair. She absently patted the backpack that was sitting on the table in front of her before taking out the bagel and absently biting into it. It wasn’t the best thing she’d ever eaten, but it was fairly tasty and would satisfy her hunger for a few days at least.

If she were still in her father’s court, Red would be treated to three grand feasts every day. And that was just one example of the many ways in which she’d been pampered and waited on. She wondered how her ancestors had ever come so far from the savage and brutal existence they used to lead. Certainly, the army of warriors that her father commanded was feared, not only in the 12 Realms but in all of the Hinterland. But when was last time any of them had gone weeks without food, or been forced to live on their wits? She had to, grudgingly, admit that one of her father’s true triumphs as Sovereign had been to ensure that even the lowliest paw was not wanting for food or shelter. The consequence of her people’s current society, though, was that they were no longer the hard forged species they once had been.

That was one reason she had left. She was, even at her young age, a warrior of uncommon skill and even grace. But Red felt that she had never been tested. Not in the truest sense. She’d never lived without servants or acolytes, never needed to work or desired anything. That just did not seem right for one of her kind. Well, that’s what she had said in the letter that she had left for her mother and father. And it was true, to a point. But the real reason she had left, the reason she had not divulged to a single soul, was that, more than anything, Red had wanted to live in the world of the humans. She had wanted to come to this place the first time she heard tales of it, when she was so young that she couldn’t even transform on her own.

It was commonly known that there had been a few of her kind who had left the 12 Realms and made a home here on earth with the humans. Of those that had, however, not a single one had come from among the ku-mon, the ruling class, let alone from the Sovereign’s own family. But Red had always been different. Her gifts as a warrior were the extent of her qualities that were in any way like the rest of her kind. She was not, she took pains to remind her father time and again, violent by nature. She even refused a duel once. Such an act, by any other of her kind, would be seen as traitorous, and was only tolerated by her because of who she was, or more importantly, who her father was. It had not mattered in the least, most of all to her father, what had been her reasons for refusing the duel. When Red told her father that she would have easily killed the boy who had challenged her, and that he had only done so as a way to impress his friends, she had been met with an impassive stare and a single word.

So?

She could not make her father understand that, really, there was no reason to kill another of their kind simply because he was a fool. Her father had said that, clearly, that was the reason she should have fought the duel, to teach the whelp a lesson. No one had understood her decision.

Well, her brother had made an attempt, at least. He had agreed that, obviously, she was the far more skilled warrior and yes, the manner of the challenge had necessitated that the duel would have ended with a death, and it was a near certainty that she would have been the one to make the kill. He even admitted that it did seem a foolish thing for the boy to do in the first place. But on the other hand, her brother had reasoned, by not accepting the duel she had only reinforced her challenger’s foolish actions, and no doubt given him a false belief in himself and his skills and that would likely end in his death on the battlefield in any event. Red hadn’t thought of that, and admitted as much, but maintained that she would not kill another of her kind just because he was an idiot.

That had been the last time she had spoken to her brother. The argument with her father had hardened her resolve to leave the 12 Realms and strike out for the world of the humans, and she had left that night. Her brother, in fact, was the only one she really missed. He didn’t understand her, exactly, but he was more accepting of her eccentricities then anybody else. And, unlike most of her kind, he had a genuine caring disposition. Of course, he was generally regarded as the greatest warrior in 10 generations, and had proven as much time and again on fields of battle, so his “compassion” was often seen as a mildly endearing character flaw by most in the 12 Realms.

Red was idly peering into the small brown paper sack to see if there were any large crumbs left over when the young man who had been behind the counter, green apron slung over his right shoulder, stepped outside the coffee shop, shot a glance at Red, and saddled over toward her.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Red replied as she finished inspecting the inside of the paper sack.

“So, can I ask you a question?”

“I believe that you have just asked me a question.”

The young man’s reply was halted as he considered that, from any other person, that remark would have been pure sarcasm, but the way that Red had said it, well, it was just authentic. She hadn’t meant anything other than what she had said.

“Yeah, um,” he continued after a second, “anyway, I was just wondering why you’re out here all the time. I mean, you’re here when I work in the morning, you’re here when I close, you’re out here when I stop by in between class. Don’t you have any where else to go?”

“The other man asked me that same question,” she shrugged, “I like it here, I can watch people.”

“Yeah, Bob was probably just worried that you were crack addict, he works at a clinic downtown.”

“Bob?”

“The guy who bought you the bagel,” said the young man pointing at the paper sack.

“Oh, yes. Bob was very nice.”

“Yeah he’s cool…anyway, it seems pretty obvious you’re not using, you look way too healthy and your teeth aren’t all jacked.”

Red blinked.

“Besides,” the young man continued, “most of the squatters and druggies our age hang out over in the Haight.”

“The Haight?” Red said slowly. “Oh yes, the district of the city around the intersection of Haight Street and Ashbury Street.”

“Right.”

“I did walk through that district,” nodded Red, “but I find this area more to my liking.”

The young man shrugged.

“Really? Each to his own, I guess.”

“Each to his own?”

“Yeah, it’s a saying.”

“Each to his own,” Red repeated, savoring the words. “Yes, I like that very much.”

The young man stared at Red for a few seconds.

“You’re not from around here are you?” he asked.

“Bob asked me that as well. I assume it is fairly obvious then, that I am not native.”

“So when did you get here?”

“Four weeks ago.”

“Do you know anyone in the city?”

Red shook her head.

The young man started scratching his left ear, a troubled look on his face.

“Look, I’d hate to think that you were sleeping in an alley somewhere so, if you want, you can crash on my couch.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You can sleep at my place, at least for a couple of days. I have three roommates, but none of them’ll care. Well, they shouldn’t anyway.”

Red could not sense an ulterior motive in the young man’s offer, but it was hard to tell with humans. She seriously doubted that he posed any sort of real threat to her, even if his offer was not one of sincere generosity. She still had her pa-kal within in arms reach, and more importantly, her favored pair of fi-sten.

“Hey,” the young man held up his hands, “I’m not trying to make a move on you or anything. But I’m sure it’s pretty damn lonely to sleep on bench in the middle of a city where you don’t know anyone.”

“Very well then,” said Red as she rose out of her seat and lifted her back pack. “I accept your most gracious offer.”

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