"Someone there?"

The blond girl ducked her head just a bit- she was short, so maybe he wouldn't see her behind the shelf. Maybe he hadn't really heard her. She stared ahead at the shelf, scrutinizing a row of cans with labels so sun-faded she could barely make out their contents.

"You deaf?"

The words, coming from the tall man who'd stepped around the end of the display, nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she made a little squeaking sound, and shook her head, stammering something inane about shopping for meat meat? really? shut up Chant. Just shut up... and quickly stuffed the can back on the shelf, shuffling bare, dirty feet awkwardly and looking for an escape route.

'You haven't done anything,' she told herself, 'stop acting like you have!' She hadn't- but she'd been about to, and her conscience was a thick, burning lump in her throat, which made it hard to answer the man's questions- which made her seem even more suspicious.

Her elbows and knees were scuffed and bloodied, and her clothes had been roughed up- she knew she was a mess. The man was just offering her help- offering her money? Why would he do that? She wasn't a beggar...

No, you're a thief. Or you were about to be. Just thank the nice man and go. Go. You really do not belong in here...

The vagrant girl stood all of 5 foot something- one or two? She wasn't precisely sure. She hadn't been measured since the institute in Phoenix, and she'd only been 18 then. How long ago was that? Chant wasn't sure. Her long hair was a dirty strawberry blonde color, dishwater in the dusk, but it hinted at copper in the daylight, and her eyes were a stupid shade of blue which had gotten her both into and out of more trouble than she cared to remember. She ducked from the Quick N Dirty out along the wall to the alley, looking for an easy way down to the water- but finding none, and a dead-end pier in the bargain, so she waited until her heart slowed to a rational rate, hoping the stranger would be long gone by the time she came back out onto the street.

What was she so worried about? It wasn't as if she'd taken anything... as if he'd seen her take anything, either. You're not a thief. Don't be stupid. One more day on dumpster scraps won't kill you. Her conscience berated her again. Then her stomach growled, and she glanced down, giving it a dirty, accusatory look.

"Oh shut up."

Her excursion into the world of petty larceny a complete bust, Chant eventually did find her way down to the water, along the drainage canal where the storm drains emptied clear, cleanish water out into the bay. It had a rusty smell, but that was just the pipes, and the slowly-dissolving husk of a burnt out car someone had pushed off the overpass above. Apart from the man in the mini mart, she hadn't seen a soul, and down here under the pipes, no one was likely to be able to see her anyway. She rummaged in her knapsack for some cheap sandalwood soap she kept in a ziploc baggie for just such occasions and shrugged herself out of her skirt, dunking herself in the canal to wash away the dirt and blood on her clothes and pale skin.

'Freedom,' she thought, 'It really isn't free. But it's worth it.