There was a lady standing at the counter of the bakery, arms crossed and tapping her foot. The baker was talking to his elderly father, waving his arms around as he told the story. His father leaned with an elbow on a shelf, hand pressed against his cheek. The lady exhaled audibly, and the two looked at her.

The baker smiled and held up a finger. "He'll be out with your bread soon, ma'am." He turned his attention back to his father and continued the story. "So, this guy comes in here asking for directions, right?"

His straight-faced father nodded and said, "Yeah?"

"And let me tell ya, this guy looks weird, okay? His hair was long, but it was in these tight-looking braids. Never seen anything like it! And he had these small-looking eyes, kinda like this..." The baker spread the corners of his eyelids with his fingers to demonstrate.

His father yawned. "Yeah?"

While the baker told his story and the lady waited for her food, Mallory had slipped through the entrance, crouched behind the lady and out of their sights.

"And he had this dark skin," the baker continued, "not too dark, though. Kinda like, eh..." The baker looked around the store, and then down into the shelf his father was leaning on. The baker's face lightened up and he grabbed a short loaf of bread. He held it up to his father and pointed at it. "He was like the crust on this bread here! See?"

The bread he held up caught Mallory's eye. She held her stomach as if she would be able to stop it from growling that way. Fortunately for her, it was not loud enough to catch anyone's attention. The bread was flaky with a golden-brown color. Mallory imagined herself scarfing down that loaf of bread, letting it be the food that keeps her alive for the day. She could already taste the crunchy crust, and the soft interior. As much as she wanted to go for it right at that moment, she waited. She knew she had to wait for the perfect moment.

The baker's father shrugged. "So, he was brown?"

"Not just brown, Dad!" the baker whined, putting the bread back where he found it. "Remember what I said about the eyes? He was some kinda different breed. What do ya call it, uh..." The baker started snapping and looking down. Then he pointed at his father with realization. "Mixed! A mixed breed!"

His father rolled his eyes. "Where are you going with this again?"

The baker laughed. "Oh right! So, listen, the guy asks me for directions to the Sorcerers' Guild, and I'm just standin' here like, 'Sorcerers' Guild?' I told him I never even heard of it, but here's the funny part!"

"Okay," his father listened.

"And then I say, 'Why don'tcha try heading yeast?'" The baker nearly fell forward busting out in raspy laughter. The lady and the baker's father exchanged some rather unamused looks.

In that moment of the baker's hysterics, Mallory sprinted over to the corner of the counter and hid. She was more visible to the baker and his father that way, but at least she was in a position in which she could actually grab something before getting caught. She crept toward the two men, where there were plenty of loaves of bread underneath them in the hollowed-out counter. Mallory reached for a loaf that looked just like the one the baker held up earlier, but the baker unexpectedly straightened himself out. She quickly moved her hand back.

The baker spread his arms out to his father, seeming to have expected a bigger reaction. "It's a joke, Dad!"

The father rolled his eyes and said, "So are you." The lady smiled at that retort, and the father smiled back at her.

The baker waved his arms at him. "Bah, you're no fun, are ya?"

The man took a breath and responded, "I just wanna know what any of that had to do with how all the bread got molded the other week."

The baker sighed with disappointment and continued, "Alright, alright, I'll tell you the scary part, then. So, after I said what I said, I bust out laughin', like I did just now. Then I look up at the guy, and at first this guy looks furious, almost like he was holding back tears or somethin'! But then, he just smiles, and he smiles so wide it looks like his eyes go completely shut, because, you know, he has small eyes without smiling. Then he says, all stern-like, with that creepy smile still on his face, 'Thank you, that was funny,' and he just walks away." The baker put up a finger. "But get this, before he's outta here, I hear him say one word, 'Rot.'"

His father raised an eyebrow. "'Rot?' Why?"

"Well here's the crazy thing," his son continued, "the guy's hands were behind his back the whole time, right? And so, as I watch him walk out, he just flicks one of his hands open, and closes it again. When that happened, though, I swear, Dad, I swear! I saw this weird, thick shadow just jut out of his hand. I was so startled by it that I didn't even see where it went. But after he was gone, I went in the back maybe half an hour later, and all the bread was green! And blue! Some of it got so bad it was even black!"

Mallory listened to the bizarre story as she waited for another opening. The baker was known for telling ridiculous stories like that, so she did not take it seriously. Additionally, it did not seem like any of the bread was still bad or anything, so it did not concern her either way.

The father readjusted himself on the counter while listening. "So, you're sayin' this mixed breed or whatever did something with his hand that molded all of our bread?"

"Yes!" the baker confirmed. "It's the only explanation, don'tcha think?"

The elderly man looked back at the lady and replied, "I think I shoulda stuck with one son." He and the lady shared a laugh.

"Dad!" the baker whined, leaning towards his father. "I'm tellin' the truth!"

Mallory reached for the loaf of bread again in the moment the baker started arguing with his father. However, the father's comment about his son reminded Mallory that there was another man who worked at that bakery. She heard footsteps behind her and locked eyes with a man carrying a package of dark-looking bread, who looked like the taller version of the other baker. The man raised his eyebrows when he saw her. He glanced at the bread she was reaching for, and then back at her. Mallory looked up at him, trying her hardest to stay calm since he was close enough, and looked strong enough, to grab her with one arm. He glanced at the three others in the bakery, who were all distracted in conversation, and then he looked back down at Mallory. To Mallory's surprise, the tall man nodded to her, and with no hesitation, she snatched the loaf of bread and began to run.

"What the—" the baker said, looking down after feeling the brush of Mallory's finger on his pantleg when she grabbed the bread. He saw her run off from behind the counter and towards the entrance. His face grew red with fury and he yelled, "Hey, get back here!" He hopped over the counter and pursued her.

The baker's father followed him behind, while the baker's brother gave the lady the package of bread and said with a smile, "Thanks for stopping by, sorry about this!" The man then followed his younger brother and father.

Mallory clutched the bread against her chest, sprinting through the street with her infamous speed. Her heart beat on the inside of her chest as her breath continued to escape her body. Still, she kept forward, until she reached a corner where she could turn. She felt the skin on her bare feet tear a little against the gravel as she quickly slowed herself down to turn, almost stumbling over in the process. She then continued to run forward, and then found an alleyway to hide at. Mallory dropped down against the wall and tried to catch her breath.

The baker and his family stopped their pursuit long before Mallory had made her first turn and had vanished back into the village. The baker stamped his foot and cursed aloud. "The brat! Stealing from me again!"

His father held his chest and tried to gather his own breath. "You mean 'us.'"

The baker looked back at his brother, who had a straight look on his face, eyebrows only slightly raised. "Why couldn't you stop her?" he asked.

The brother shrugged. "My hands were full, remember?"

Meanwhile, Mallory peered her head out from the corner of the alleyway to see if they were still after her. She sighed when she saw that they were nowhere to be seen. She looked down at the bread in her grasp and munched half of it down in a single bite. The girl wished she could savor it more, but it was the first thing she got to eat in two days, and her growling belly could not wait any longer. She chewed the food quickly and gulped it down. With her stomach quelled for the moment, she tilted her head back against the wall again and tried to steady her breathing. She took some time to relax and began to finish her bread slowly. Soon enough, there was nothing left for her to eat, and then she stared off in the distance.

In that moment, she realized she was only a short walk away from the village square, and she could not help but notice that there was a giant, dark skinned man with a sword at his side talking to a familiar fruit merchant. There was also a large, black horse waiting behind the man with the sword. Mallory noticed the black man reaching in his robe for something, but then the merchant waved a hand at him, causing him to take his hand out of his robe. The merchant gathered a bunch of fruits together and put them in a basket. He handed the basket to the black man, and he took it gratefully. When Mallory saw this, it sparked a familiar hatred in her heart. He gave him all that food, and he didn't even pay! Mallory exhaled with a huff and started towards the merchant in a crouched position. Okay then, I won't pay either!

***

"Hello there," Daryl had greeted the merchant.

"And a good morning to you, my friend!" the merchant responded. "So, what brings an incredible swordsman like yourself to a village like this?"

"Well, I've been traveling for a while after I got assigned a new job from my boss," Daryl explained. "I'm looking for someone, and I just happened to come across this village."

"Oh, might I ask who it is you're looking for?" the merchant asked.

At first, Daryl looked down and considered telling the man that it was personal, but then he realized the man might actually know someone who could be his apprentice. He looked back up and said, "I'm looking for an apprentice, someone to train, you understand?"

The merchant's face lit up. "Are you, sir? Well you're in luck! I have five strong sons who'd all love to become swordsmen!"

Daryl nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. "That's good, I'd like to meet them some time."

The merchant chuckled with excitement. "Of course, sir! You'll love Timothy, he's the eldest, and he's got a good head on his shoulders!"

Daryl turned his attention to the merchant's fruits and started reaching into his robe. "How much for a basket?"

"For you, free of charge!" The merchant quickly put together a fruit basket for Daryl and held it up to him.

Daryl took his hand out of his robe and took the basket. During that moment he took the basket, Daryl noticed out of the corner of his eye a little brown girl wearing a tattered, tan dress making her way behind the merchant. At first, Daryl did not think much of her being there, perhaps she was just a passer-by. Nevertheless, he kept a subtle eye on her position to make sure he knew what she was doing. "That's very kind of you," he addressed him. "What is your name, merchant?"

"Bruce Singleton!" he answered. "And it's been a pleasure to serve you, Daryl the Dauntless!"

As the girl continued to linger, crouched down behind Bruce, it became more obvious to Daryl that she was about to steal from Bruce, and the man had no idea she was right there. A part of Daryl wanted to keep his mouth shut, seeing how skinny the girl was, but at the same time, he figured it would be rude after the kindness Bruce expressed to him. "To repay you for your kindness," Daryl started, "I should tell you that there's a little girl trying to steal something behind you."

"What?" Bruce asked, turning around.

The girl whipped her head around, taking an apple from the shelf behind Bruce, and tried to run away.

"Hey!" Bruce yelled, managing to grab her wrist. She struggled under his grasp, and he looked at the apple in her other hand. "Put that back right now!"

"No!" the girl pleaded, nearly yanking her own arm off to break free. "Just let me have it, please!"

"Not a chance, you dirty little orphan!" Bruce raised a hand, seemingly to strike the girl.

Before Bruce could strike, though, the girl stopped her struggling to raise her foot in a swift kick, getting Bruce right above his massive gut. Bruce yelled and reeled back, holding his chest. "You want it?" the girl hissed. "Then you can have it!" The girl bent her knees and sprang herself toward the merchant. Her jump gained her enough height to see Bruce eye to eye, and she smashed the apple in Bruce's face with all her might. The apple blew up into pieces everywhere around them, and Bruce fell to the ground, his nose leaking red. The girl landed on her hands and feet at the man's side.

Something about the scene struck a chord with Daryl. The girl was so much stronger than she looked. Not only that, but instead of accepting defeat at the hands of the merchant, she fought back, and succeeded. With these observations in mind, the swordsman made a decision. Daryl unsheathed his sword and said, "That's enough."

The girl looked back to find the tip of Daryl's sword held right under her chin. She instinctively raised her head, to which Daryl moved the sword even closer. The girl froze and shifted her eyes up to meet the cold gaze of the dark giant who stood before her.

"On your feet," Daryl ordered.

She obeyed, and Daryl raised his sword along with her.

Bruce planted both of his hands to his left after wiping apple fragments off of his face and got back to his own feet. "Now you've done it..." Bruce started, panting while he held his head. "Now Daryl the Dauntless will slay you where you stand!"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the merchant. "Why would I do that?"

Bruce twitched an eyebrow and made an irritable noise under his breath. "Y-you saw what she just did to me, didn't you, sir?"

"So, you want me to kill her, even though I have no authority to do so?"

Bruce looked back and forth between the swordsman and the child. "You're holding a sword at her throat, surely you don't intend for her to get away! This isn't the only time she hurt me!"

"You've been bested by a dying orphan several times?" There was a laugh that came from a few villagers watching. All the excitement of the scene had drawn a crowd around the three of them. The people formed a murmur amongst themselves. Bruce's face was flushed red with either embarrassment or anger. Daryl's eyes shifted to the right and left, then back at the girl he was holding his sword at. "What's your name, girl?"

Bruce scoffed at the question. "What does it matter? She's nothing!"

Daryl examined her further. Her eyes were round and sunken in. The girl's face was smudged with dirt, as well as her dress. Her dress was so short it hardly covered her bottom, something she must have out-grown. It was clear the dress was all she had for a long time. The girl's cheekbones stuck out as her cheeks were sunken in as well. A wild, filthy mess of jet black hair rested on her head. She had legs comparable to those of a chicken. It was a wonder she could still stand on them.

Without taking his eyes off the girl, he responded to Bruce with, "She's nothing but skin and bones, you mean."

"She's a thief!" Bruce continued. "A parasite! You'd be doing us all a favor by getting rid of her!"

"Girl," Daryl said, ignoring Bruce's insults, "I asked you a question. Can you speak?"

The girl looked up at Daryl and answered, "It's...Mallory."

Bruce continued to huff and puff. "Sir, what is the point of asking her all these—"

"Status," Daryl interrupted. "It truly means everything to you, doesn't it?"

Bruce frowned up. "What are you saying?"

"Why is it that you would offer a well fed, well paid man a whole fruit basket for free, yet deny a starving child a single apple?"

"S-so what?" Bruce started babbling. "You're saying she should just steal from people because she's starving?"

"I'm saying she deserves something," Daryl retorted. "I suppose that isn't a concept a peasant like you would understand, though. What was your surname, again? Simpleton?"

The crowd around them began to laugh, while Bruce shot them all a glare. He turned his attention back to the swordsman. "You can't be serious! What do you plan for her then?"

Daryl continued to look down at the girl to ask, "Why are you still alive, Mallory?"

She looked up at the swordsman. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"There's a reason you're still clinging to life, isn't there? Is it for yourself, or something else?"

Mallory looked down, her eyes shifting around.

"Mallory," Daryl continued, "are you really an orphan?"

The girl looked back up at him and answered, "No, I'm not. My father is still alive, I know he is."

"And that's why you continue to live, yes?" Daryl questioned.

Mallory nodded in confirmation.

"What happened to your father?" the swordsman asked.

Mallory knit her eyebrows and swallowed as she thought about the painful memory. "Bad men took him away after he gambled all of his money. They took me to this village. Now I'm all alone."

"How long ago was this?"

Mallory tried to remember all the seasonal changes that happened since that day, and she counted eight. "Eight years ago, I think."

Daryl thought for a moment. She's just like I was, an outcast of society. A colored child in a sea of pale faces. No one to go home to, no one to care for her. But there's one difference...After taking the moment to think about his decision, he said, "Good, you'll do just fine."

Bruce's eyes widened at Daryl's comment. "Sir, what are you suggesting?"

Daryl looked at the merchant. "I'll be taking her as my apprentice instead."

"What?" Bruce yelled. "But what about my sons? I thought you said you wanted to meet them!"

"If they're as one note as their father then I have no interest," Daryl explained.

There were some snickers in the crowd, and Bruce continued, "But she's a girl! Women can't become swordsmen!"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "You clearly don't know as much as you think you do."

"Sir..." Mallory interjected.

Daryl looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

She continued, "I...I don't wanna be a swordsman. I just wanna find my father."

"But you do want a roof over your head," Daryl replied, "a change of clothes, warm food for your belly, and clean water to drink, yes? You want to be treated like a human being. I know you do. You can have all that, girl, if you agree to come with me, and learn the ways of swordsmanship." Daryl knew she would not refuse, because that was part of the difference he saw in her.

"Please, Daryl!" Bruce whined. "You heard the ungrateful brat! She doesn't even want to be a swordsman!"

"I've heard enough out of you, Simpleton!" Daryl snapped, followed by more laughter from the audience.

"It's Singleton!" Bruce snapped back. The merchant gasped, seemingly ashamed of his outburst towards the swordsman he had so much respect for earlier.

Daryl turned his attention back to the girl. "Mallory, I need an answer."

The look in Mallory's eyes were fearful, and she started shaking. Of course, she wanted the care she had been deprived of for eight years, but being a swordsman likely meant she would have to kill people. With that in her head, she was reminded of the brutal huntsmen her took her father from her, Eagle Eye's sadistic grin as he struck him in the stomach and the face, and she did not want to be anything like those men. She started shaking her head lightly, trying to refuse the swordsman's offer.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, staring her down for a moment, and then he sheathed his sword. Mallory's head shot up with surprise as Daryl turned his back to her. "Then die of hunger," Daryl said, "and let your father live the rest of his days in captivity."

His words rekindled the fire that had been lit in her heart eight years ago. She remembered her resolve, that she would live for her father, and she shouted, "No!"

Daryl looked back at her, and he was reminded of the difference he had seen in her from earlier. She was no longer shaking, and she had straightened her expression with a furrowed brow. This girl's been in an almost identical position I was in before I met my sensei, but what makes this girl different from me is the look in her eyes. Those are the eyes of someone with a will to live.

"If you promise to help me find my father," Mallory proposed, "then I'll go with you."

Daryl turned back around and nodded. "You have my word." Daryl climbed onto his horse, placed the fruit basket on the saddle behind him, and reached an outstretched hand towards Mallory. "Come along, then." Mallory took his hand, and he pulled her up onto a spot on the saddle between him and the fruit basket.

There was another murmur among the crowd, and Bruce started blabbering again. "S-sir! That girl can't be trusted! She's crazier than she looks!"

"I think I can hold my own if things go awry," Daryl explained. He looked back at Mallory. "Make sure that basket doesn't fall off." Mallory took the basket and set it on an empty spot on the saddle between her and the swordsman. Daryl glanced at Bruce, and said, "By the way, thanks for the fruit." Daryl pulled on Stalwart's harness and they took off, leaving several eyes watching them as they did so.

Although Daryl was confident in his decision to make Mallory his apprentice, there was one thing about her that kept eating at him. The last thing Bruce said to him was that she was crazier than she looked, and as much of a buffoon Daryl believed him to be, one thing that he noticed about Mallory told him that the merchant may have been on to something. Daryl thought about that moment when Mallory decided to fight back against Bruce, how her whole demeanor changed in an instant. She had gone from a desperate, starving thief pleading for the apple to something else entirely. The girl reminded him of a wild animal in that moment. Daryl knew her eyes contained the will to live, but there was something else, too. He glanced back at her as they rode to the other end of the village, and then looked back before she could meet his gaze. This girl's eyes have a deep, smoldering hatred.