“Guards! Guards!” the man bellowed behind me, pointing, as I rushed deeper into the city. I escaped, shifting direction at every junction, but while the maze-like nature of the stone buildings made it trivial, it also got me lost.

I ran out of breath, switching to pure adrenaline for a moment. Going past my limits proved foolish, as my foot caught on an uneven piece of pavement and I tripped. I put my arms forward, causing them to bear the brunt of the fall and saving me from a broken nose. Too winded to do anything more, I stayed down, only forcing myself to flip on my back, so that my breathing came more freely.

As I started recovering from the exhaustion, I glanced at my surroundings. I lay in a tiny but empty passageway between two buildings. Their rooftops neighbored close enough together that the cover of obscurity would remain all thorough the day. This made it an ideal place to hide. However, from the acrid odor, I had the displeasure of learning I had not been the only one to think so. Fearing this promised any injury would develop into an infection, I scrutinized my arms to check for broken skin, then sighed in relief as I saw they did not appear to be bleeding, despite still aching from the impact.

A few minutes later, I sat back up. I was in no hurry. If the guards caught up and found me here, I would be in no state to flee, anyway.

My physical trauma now addressed, my thoughts went back to the encounter. What had happened? Why would the old man attack me? Did he somehow know that I was a monster? How?

I looked myself over and had to admit that I presented quite a lot of things to worry about. I judged the most egregious example to be the blood stained pants, and regretted not having thought of using some of the dirt from earlier to make them look less incriminating. Oh, well… It was too late now.

I resolved myself and faced the truth: it remained a considerable risk, but I had to try asking someone for help. Now that I was in the city, there would be no way to entirely avoid contact with its inhabitants. Seeing me had been enough to upset that man. Getting out of here without this happening again sounded implausible. And where would I go, anyway? Off to live in the woods? Not a chance. No, I needed to try again. I just had to rest a bit before my next attempt, in case it proved as disastrous as the last.

Hidden by shadows in the alleyway, I pressed myself against a wall and spied on the people going through the main street. The narrowness of my refuge severely limited my field of view, making it difficult to distinguish the features of fast moving pedestrians. The few glimpses I caught showed me they shared little commonality between them. Within a few minutes, I had seen everything from beggars with ragged clothes to ludicrously dressed bourgeois. Likewise, my pale skin and dark hair would not make me seem out of place, for I could not identify any prominent complexions. I did note, however, a significant absence of bare chests. Not to mention, I presented a daringly innovating fashion choice by having blood on the outside. My dagger, which I would have expected to be seen as aggressive, turned out to help me fit in. Indeed, with rare exceptions, everyone carried weapons. Passersby had their weapons sheathed, however, and I had failed to procure anything to that effect, electing instead to keep the dagger tugged in my belt. I hoped that would prove to be no issue, considering the small size of the blade.

This omnipresence of weapons still perplexed me. Indeed, why would someone that looked like they were struggling for food carry around a rapier? In fact, the handful of people not displaying any sort of blade had been among the most well-dressed. Seeing the entire population display arms at all times gave it a rather aggressive and unwelcoming appearance. Since the city had guards to handle disputes anyway, I could not fathom their reasoning. Well. I assumed there were some, considering the old man had called for them. I had yet to recognize any myself. This democratization of weapons made asking anyone for help dangerous. Any mishap could lead to an armed mob, and I did not fancy my chances of surviving that.

Perhaps waiting for nightfall would offer better options? It was still morning. I faced a dilemma, having to gamble on the situation out there improving while risking for my lack of food to become an issue. Indeed, I did not feel hungry right now, but knew it was only a matter of time. It would make both thinking and running away from the consequences of poor decisions much harder. Indecision gripped me, and I stood there for maybe half an hour.

Luck, it turned out, was not on my side. Traffic kept increasing, and the more I waited, the more I risked having the choice taken from me.

Then, the inevitable happened: someone took my alleyway as a shortcut. It was so sudden that I did not even react before the hooded figure disappeared into the flow of people walking the main street. Either they had somehow missed me, or they did not find my appearance so alarming.

Huh. That might be a solution. Inspired, I prepared to accost whoever went through next, reasoning that I would not attract a crowd if I just talked to someone right here.

I had my chance nearly an hour later, when a woman ambled into the corridor. She held a page as she walked, somehow reading from it instead of paying attention to where she went. This prevented her from noticing me. I, however, had moved further back to avoid a repeat of the last passerby. This time, I made sure not to be ignored.

“Excuse me?” I called out to her, placing myself in her path. “I could use some help.”

That startled the woman, and she dropped her page. Realizing I stood in her way, she stared at me with a shocked expression, which quickly devolved into fiery anger.

Not good.

“Y-You freak!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how you’re doing this, but it won’t work!”

Taken aback by the abrupt aggressiveness, I almost failed to grasp that maybe surprising someone as they crossed a dark alley had never been likely to yield a friendly result. I blamed having simply too many things on my mind today. It was a paltry excuse, since I had also complained multiple times about how little it contained.

Wait. Had she just called me a freak? That did not fit the reaction I would have expected, even considering the unfortunate circumstances. Did I somehow look like a monster to her right now, or did she judge my appearance truly so uncouth?

Oh. The bloodied pants, maybe? That would explain it. Though, in that case, why would my actions confuse her?

Still in the middle of choosing which words would best tell the woman it had all just been a misunderstanding, I felt a chill as I saw she had already drawn her rapier. Not only that, but a few other people in the street behind her also started reaching for their weapon, and they were looking in our direction.

With too little time to think, I decided on running as the best course of action. As I turned around to do just that, I glimpsed enough of the woman to know she intended to skewer me on the spot. Her attempting a lunge instead of pursuit proved to be my salvation, because no one caught me as I fled.

Running for as long as I could, I ended up in yet another dark place. Some abandoned cul-de-sac between two shops.

“What... What the fuck is wrong with these people?!” I exclaimed, once again out of breath.

I was, admittedly, getting a little upset myself. This had not at all been what I expected to find here. Sure, I might have overreacted when the old man had reached for his sword, but that last encounter left me with no doubts: those people wanted me dead, and they seemed unwilling to talk about it.

Could this be what precipitated the battle? Had I come across a group of murderous travelers and been defending myself? For all I knew, I might have originally been trying to escape this very city. That would be just my luck.

I did not know how to proceed. I had to figure out what caused people to become so violent. It was clear just asking would not work, so how could I make sure they were in no state to harm me? I could try capturing someone and force them to talk. Well, I could try, but there seemed very little chance I would succeed: I had no rope, no knowledge of any way to make a trap, and since everybody carried weapons, my dagger failed to be the intimidation tool I might have needed.

I was pretty decent at running away, though. More so than I would have expected. Twice now had I escaped using crowds of people, and both times went without a hitch. Why had the passersby not joined in a frenzied hunt upon seeing me? Could they somehow not sense whatever had upset my aggressors?

I could check that theory by trying to get somewhere else without running and seeing if I attracted any attention. However, my current hideout felt safe, making me loath to risk unnecessary danger. Here, there would be no chances of anyone passing through. I could stay as long as I wanted.

Only then did the implications of that hit me. Indeed, no one was likely to have any reason to enter this dead end, but it also meant I would end up cornered if anyone ever did. Suddenly, this place no longer felt so safe. Not safe at all. I needed to leave. Right now.

There were quite many people commuting in the main street at that point. Movements stifled by fear, I awkwardly merged into the flow of bored looking citizens. Listening for their reaction, I readied myself to sprint at the first angry outburst.

None came.

Quick glances revealed no one paid me any mind. I did not know where the crowd’s motion was directing me, but at least I was no longer stuck. Traffic had sharply increased not long before I dared step out. According to my stomach, the reason for it should have been obvious: it was time for lunch.

In my previous flights, I had passed by many shops offering food. Well, they were offering to sell food. An important distinction, given my complete lack of funds. Although, thinking about it, that was not the primary issue I faced. Would having money even prove sufficient to purchase a meal? Indeed, everything suggested that leaving this crowd would strip me of my temporary protection.

The ever-changing group of people I walked among with reached a plaza defined around a statue. I had to keep pace not to be noticed, but it proved hard not to gawk at the sculpture. Towering over everyone, a stone woman of at least five meters (16 feet) presented a decapitated head with her left hand, as if showing it for all the passersby to see. Smiling, she held a sword aloft with her other hand. This would not have been so shocking, if not for the colors. Strange patterns were plastered all over her in sharp, contrasting hues. The mad artist’s desecration had only spared her sword and the morbid trophy.

I kept on peeking at the odd statue, until doing so made walking difficult. This could not be the work of a vandal. I observed a lot of subtleties in the pigmented shapes. A few complex gradients, too. I noticed a few patterns repeated with different hues. Oh, it definitely looked ugly, but I could still admire the craftsmanship. I felt as if I gazed upon the result of a collaboration between prominent artists whose styles proved utterly incompatible. Could they not have spread those colors and patterns over the floor instead?

As if to complement the confusing flurry of colored designs I just saw, a torrent of foreign smells assaulted my nose. Looking around, I realized my group had entered an even busier street, which featured a food market. The chaos surrounding us made me dizzy. A cacophony of merchants competed with one another in their attempts at attracting customers through the sheer volume of their voice.

Vindicated by the sight and smell of food, my stomach reminded me that eating should never be deemed optional. My hunger, hitherto a feeble sensation, surged without warning. This presented me with a conundrum, because I knew of no legal way to get anything to eat, and I had just managed to convince myself to be innocent of the crimes committed by whoever I had been before my mind got wiped. Here, however, there would be no ambiguity on where to lay the blame.

Oh, I did hesitate for at least a couple more minutes. The fight proved unwinnable, though. I ended up reasoning that I would need to eat at some point today anyway, and that I judged unlikely the occurrence of any other similarly convenient ways for me to grab a meal. Ashamed, I fell under no illusions about how easily I had caved on that point. This was at least as much of a literal gut decision as it was a cerebral one.

Just as the flow of people was about to push me past a stall selling breads and pastries, I randomly grabbed one. I had nowhere to hide the loot, so I just started munching on it.

I tensed up, waiting for judgment to fall upon me, but heard no shouting.

My first larceny proved a complete success. The stolen bread tasted unduly sweet, and I did not believe that caused by its illegal acquisition.

Now that I had debased myself, there remained no more moral barriers to stop me from taking my fill. I could not be picky with what I grabbed, but food was food. It only took me a handful, no pun tended, of misappropriations for my belly to promise it would not emit any more complaints before at least nightfall.

Emboldened, I maneuvered through the crowd to pass by cloth articles. I was going to get some decent attire at last.

Grabbing a shirt that laid folded on the corner of a stall, I let the movement of my walk do the pulling. I was getting a knack for this.

Maybe I had somewhat overestimated my new skill. The shirt dragged along a bunch of its siblings, making them fall to the ground. I froze. Big mistake.

“Hey! You!” the stall merchant shouted, before pointing in my general direction. “Thief!”

The reaction was close to instantaneous. I saw some people draw their weapons even as I started going as fast as I could through the masses. At least they would not dare to swing at me here. Too many people in the way.

My ability to safely get into those trusty dark alleys proved itself reliable once more. I made sure to pick a place with an escape route, this time. To mitigate the risk of being discovered, I chose one with remains of crates lying around, allowing me a more effective hiding place, if the need arose.

While my escapade had resolved the most urgent issue, it had done very little to improve my overall situation. I remained both unable to interact with any of the denizens, and clueless about why.

With some effort, I rotated one of the large empty wooden boxes so that its opening would face a wall and holed up inside. As I should have expected, my newly acquired shirt did not fit me. It seemed I had picked an article many sizes too small and could not even wear it. Damn!

I decided to wait for the day to end, hoping that the cover of darkness would prevent anyone from seeing whatever kept upsetting them. After all, if a crowd took no issue with my appearance, the problem could not be so easily discerned.

If asked, I would have preferred being able to claim that I made the rational choice of taking a nap so that I would not end up tired during my nightly explorations. The truth was, boredom got the best of me. I dozed off.

Thunk.

I woke with a jolt.

Thunk, thunk.

“You’ll come out now...” a bored male voice intoned.

Shit.

I thought of running, but it turned out that having concealed myself in a box with the only opening facing a wall might have been a mistake. There was no way I could extricate myself out from there fast enough to escape.

I was trapped.