******

I was strolling in the market, enjoying the buzz of activity around me. The atmosphere wasn't exactly festive, but this was as close as it could get. Everyone here was haggling, laughing, or smiling. For a moment, I could almost forget the poverty that reigned in the town.

The clocktower struck ten times. I had a full hour to enjoy myself before I had to return home. Papa Gunter had been called to repair something and wouldn't be back until eleven in the morning. "Remember to behave while I'm not around, mäuschen," he had laughed right before he'd set out for the day.

Of course, that was a ridiculous thing to say to a seven year-old girl.

So here I was. Papa Gunter had never permitted me to step foot out of the house without his supervision. I never really understood why. He was protective, yes, but although I was a cripple, that didn't mean I couldn't take care of myself.

I continued to navigate my way through the hub of activity; wonderment buzzed in my head. Soon though, my elation gave away to confusion. Everyone was staring at me. They were carrying on with their work, but I sensed hushed whispers and sidelong glances as I passed each stall. Was it because of how I was dressed? Consciously, I looked down upon my skirts. Mud was creeping up the hem. However, that was to be expected, as it was spring. I then checked that my laces were tied, my hair braided and my sleeves neat. Everything was in order.

I tried to ignore the stares, drinking in my surroundings instead.

My stomach suddenly rumbled. My mouth watered at the scent of roasted apples. I followed its trail, eventually coming to a stop before a waddling, lumpy woman. Her features were hard, as though they were carved into stone and not flesh, and her hands were scarred with hard work. Despite her ungainly appearance, people flocked to her, waving coin about and yelling for more of her goods.

I'd loved to buy a stick too, but I had no money with me. I couldn't bring myself to take a few copper coins from Papa Gunter when I was already sneaking out. I contented myself with staring at the woman, watching her as she worked.

After what seemed like hours, the crowd in front of her stall thinned, and she spotted me. Her lips curled into a sneer. "Well there, what do you want?"

"Nothing, ma'am. I just thought—"

"Ah, reckoned you could beg a morsel from me, did you? Or steal my hard-earned money?"

"No ma'am. I certainly didn't—"

She cut me off by flinging a raw apple at me; it struck me squarely in the jaw. I staggered backwards, more from shock than from the pain. I massaged the bruise with my fingers. What had I done to incur the woman's wrath? Was it something I said? Something I did? Instincts told me to flee the scene as soon as possible, yet I stood rooted to my spot.

She flung another apple at me. "Get out of my sight!" she screamed.

I quickly took the hint and ran.

Behind me, I could hear laughter echoing in the midst of the crowd. Were they laughing at me? But why? What did I do? I didn't think I had done anything offensive. Or was there some unknown social norm I had broken? I didn't feel angry or sad, just confused.

I crawled back home, tired and beaten and worn out. I was ready to crash onto my bed and sleep the day away, if only to wash off the sting of the incident.

"You're that cripple, aren't you?" an alien voice boomed behind me.

I turned around, brows furrowed. I was walking with a limp—shouldn't that have been answer enough? On any other day, I might have been compelled to riposte with a snide remark, but for now, I just said, "Yes, sir."

The man folded his arms, his muscles rippling with power. He was very large, and towered over me by at least three heads. He stared at me; I stared back. "Your papa owes me money, you know?" he said. "Five sovereigns, if you want the precise terms."

"Never!" I cried without thinking. "My papa would never be in debt to another."

"Or would he?" He leaned towards me, grinning nastily. I whipped my head around. I was walled in on all sides. This was one of the alleyways that ran in the background of Hamelin. Few people were likely to pass through here. I had only taken this path because I was trying to get home fast. A mistake, it would seem.

His hand flew out, grabbing my left wrist. I squirmed in his grip, but he was strong. Even if I were a full grown man, I suspected that I wouldn't be able to get the best of him. "You tell your papa that he owes Mister Karl five sovereigns, and that if I don't get them by the week, something very bad will happen."

"Like what?"

"Like this," he said, and snapped my wrist.

******

I took in a deep, sobbing gasp, instantly jolting awake. I sat up on my bed, rubbing my left wrist where it had once been broken, reminding myself that it was just a dream, nothing more. I reminded myself that I was in Heidelberg, far away from those thugs, from the people who had hurt me.

Yet the tears continued to stream down my face.

These nightmares weren't new. In fact, they had only worsened ever since my stay in the Mayor's castle. I'd always called it a method my brain used to endure the trauma. After all, better that I cried in my sleep than in broad daylight. Still, this particular nightmare was basically reliving that horrible day, and unwillingly, I found myself back there: a frightened little girl, her wrist screaming with agony, head in a daze, stumbling around, looking for help.

Fortunately, the physician was a close friend of Papa Gunter's, and he'd immediately attended to me when I'd went into his house, crying, whimpering, pathetic. The bone had been set right, so I was spared from having yet another disability.

Unfortunately for Papa Gunter, that was the day when our troubles had truly begun. Every week, he would be forced to produce a certain amount of coin. It didn't matter to whom—someone was always ready to snatch money from him. But it was the only thing that kept them from bullying us.

Or more specifically, me.

I had contemplated running away a few times, just to give Papa Gunter peace. The only thing that stopped me from doing so was the fact that I was a cripple, and that no one would want me, since I was a girl, and I had no useful skills to speak of. That, and the fact that Papa Gunter loved me. I'd known that my leaving would only break him, so I'd stayed.

Yet now I was in Heidelberg, away from him, despite everything. I felt like breaking down.

I forced myself to study the room, pushing away another sob gurgling at the base of my throat. There was a small fireplace, but it was not lit. Only a small candle on the table beside my bed illuminated the area. The chill of the night seeped into my bones.

There was a plate of food on the table: a chicken leg, roasted and glazed with oil; some boiled potatoes, still in their jackets; a toss-up of unrecognisable vegetables on the side; and a handful of grapes. Someone must had left it for me. I kicked my blankets away and swung my legs onto the floor. I wasn't hungry, but my throat was dry. I reached for the goblet set beside the plate. I guzzled down the water, a welcome bliss for my body.

When the goblet had been emptied of its contents, I looked around the room. It was just as ornate as the rest of the castle—or what I'd seen of it so far. The space was larger than any of the Mayor's too. It was, however, cramped due to the many unnecessary furnishings.

It seemed silent at first. As the seconds ticked by, I could pick up a multitude of sounds, an orchestra softly chiming in the background—crickets chirping; the wind singing; people moaning.

I blinked furiously. People moaning?

My crutches were leaning against the table, within arm's reach. I grabbed them and slowly stood up. An urge to investigate the source of the moaning surged throughout me. It seemed like several people were in pain. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity for me to explore the castle and learn my way about.

Warily, with a profoundly heavy walk, I ventured into the area beyond my door. Darkness was thrown over the hallway like a heavy cloak, save for the few spaces in between which were illuminated by several floating balls of light. The shadows resembled a witch's withered hand. I shivered—both from the chill and the atmosphere—and wished that I had bothered to wear something over my shift.

Still, I forged forwards, towards the moans. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour. Only sounds of nature echoed throughout the space. The view from a vaulted window displayed the full moon in all its brilliant glory, a welcome friend in the midst of the unknown. The city of Heidelberg sprawled before me, alien and breathtakingly majestic. There was something appealing its lack of activity in the lateness of the hour.

Another long moan called for my attention.

Except that this time, I could hear the accompaniment of footsteps. They were muffled by the carpeted floor, but they were too solid against it—my acute ears could pick it up in the dense silence. I didn't know if I should turn back now, and return to my room; or continue to walk, and meet the person who was definitely headed towards me.

In the end, I didn't have a choice. The man's figure eventually came into view, silhouetted by the moonlight. He seemed like a giant—a contrast to Lord Himmel—and had a burly, stocky build. Terror suddenly seized my heart. I wondered if it was too late to turn back now.

"Hallo there, what's your business prowling around in the dead of the night?" the man asked. His deep bass was amiable enough. I could sense that he was wary of me too though.

"I could say the same for you, I suppose," I replied, squinting at the man's face. I couldn't make out much, only a sharp, prolific nose and a sturdy square jaw. He definitely looked like the brutes back in Hamelin, those who wouldn't hesitate to beat up an old man in exchange for his meagre share of grain rations.

"No one's usually up during these hours, except for the Tinkers, like me."

"I heard moans," I confessed, embarrassed at my feeble excuse. At least this man had a plausible one—Tinkers were said to work day and night to keep Fountains in running order. "I thought I should investigate them."

I felt him raising a brow. "I definitely didn't hear any moans. Perhaps you misinterpreted the passion of a lovemaking couple?" Even in the darkness, I was sure that he could see my cheeks flush. "My apologies for my inappropriate remark. I hardly think before I speak, which leads me into plenty of trouble. Anyhow, would you like me to escort you back to your room? Wouldn't do to have you sneaking about at this hour."

Again, he sounded kindly enough, but I detected a hint of forcefulness behind his words. I could do nothing at this point though. He caught me, whether intentionally or unintentionally. So like any self-respecting lady would, I said, "Please."

He didn't bother to offer his elbow; my crutches were enough. He also steadfastly kept his eyes pinned forwards as we walked, refusing to look at me, even as we made idle chatter. Then I realised with horror that I was talking to him in my shift.

I prayed the Lord Himmel would never hear of my run in with this man.

"Here we are," I said once we approached the door to my room. He took a step back, bowing towards me.

"I'm afraid I must leave you to your own devices, milady. I have duties to attend to."

"But of course." The Mayor's relentless training had finally paid off, it seemed, to save me from this scandalous position.

"Good night." With that, he sped down the hallway, leaving me alone to my own thoughts. My leg was starting to ache from all that walking about. Maybe it was just as well that the man had found me before I'd wandered off too far and lost my way.

However, as I returned into the safety of my room, I couldn't help but feel that the man had purposely driven me away from the moans, from where he had come from.

******

Terres