"Thief! Thief! Stop that girl!" A vendor squawked and pointed as Daenna took off with the two loaves of unpaid elf bread. Ducking under the red and purple draperies that lined his booth, she darted through the neighboring yellow out of sight. She tucked the bread under her left arm and pulled up her hood to cover her bright red hair and adjusted her face veil, slowly moving from booth to booth until no one so much as looked at her. She hadn't planned on getting caught, so her escape route needed improvising. She'd hit every market square she could find since leaving home and hadn't gotten caught yet. Her luck had finally run out. 

She scanned the square, feigned to be an ordinary patron looking at wares, and spotted the Watchman wandering away from their posts at the call of a thief.  

"She went that way, she's young, fair skin, red hair." She overheard and cursed her kirtle, wishing she'd kept her trousers on before entering the city. Instead, they were stuffed inside her knapsack, with all her other belongings, hidden in some brush a good distance away from the city walls. She always tried her best to blend in with the locals, and a lone girl in pants stood out. She turned her face from the closest vendor who began looking for her as well. She wasn't that young, only two years until her Nameday if she has a home by then to celebrate it, yet she still carried no age in her eyes.

The Watchmen prowled for her. Six of them, two at each exit of the square and two who walked rounds through the market itself. "There's a young thief among you, citizens." One of them shouted.  "A red-haired beauty. I'll give a copper to anyone who points her out." No doubt the one questioning the vendor sent a message to the others from across the way; who to look for, what she was wearing. She could only hope the details went askew. They were all tall, angry-looking men with swords surely marked with the Phoenix, all the Watchman carried one, no matter the town or city they guarded. Some wore dark brown leather jerkins that almost looked black, and their helms adorned with small horns and bone. The higher ranking Watchman wore more metal, including a breastplate with pauldrons and had large metal spikes protruding from their helmets. 

Daenna hated being hunted, she felt she had been running all her life, only now she was alone. She'd only just arrived in Fretram, so she was simply another new face among the crowd. The coastal towns in Altnahara were the best targets, always plenty of trade, plenty of strangers and full of busy people to use as distractions for her thievery. She didn't want to steal, but didn't have much of a choice either, not down the path she was on. Even if anyone realized she was traveling alone and turned her in, at her age she could end up a slave to some noble. There's no way she'd let that happen. At that moment, she wasn't sure what scared her more, being caught by the guards or admitting she was wrong to set out on her own.

She cursed the wicked sun for drying the hillside crops making her have to enter each town she came across. She cursed the barren sky for not producing enough rain, and her idle hands for lack of speed while she looked for her best escape from the Watchman.

When the two middle guards turned away from her direction, she darted towards the other side of the square, weaving in and out of the crowds, fast enough not to have anyone's eyes on her for too long, but slow enough not to raise suspicion. There were all types of travelers in the city. The colors they wore gave them away, for the most part. She dodged some southerners, most likely from Martel or Evenfell, who wore brighter colors than the local folk, mainly white robes embroidered with every color of the rainbow.  The northerners, from Hanna to Paderdun, wore mainly grey, or deep shades of red, the color of the Phoenix, its teachings still holding strong there. Even those from the Mainlands traveled there, she knew them by their unveiled faces and much lighter skin than all the rest. Altnaharians, besides the northerners, had grown accustomed to veiling due to the dusty and dry conditions that blew down from the Scourge. The closer one lived to its border, the worse it got, and the more elaborate the robes and wraps became to protect the body from inhaling too much dust or sand in the wind.

Daenna made it across the square and headed towards the east road that led to the docks. She figured she could walk along the coast a short time and double back to grab her belongings. The bread would last a week, perhaps more if she rationed it. And if she got lucky, she'd be able to catch a snake or two along her way to the next town. There were another two guards keeping heavy watch at the east exit. Dressed in more Northern garb, she eyed a man walking by with a younger lad, both in red and grey, and waited for them to walk past her before she joined them, staying just a step or two behind. They were walking towards the exit when all of a sudden they stopped and began studying a hand-drawn map of the market, listing all the wares the vendors offered that week. One muttered to the other that he had forgotten something. She felt exposed standing behind them, too close to the Watchman for her liking. Her first instinct was to continue following the couple, but they began arguing about something and gained the Watchman's eye. He began studying all three of them and seemed to notice the bread under Daenna's arm. She peaked up and accidentally looked the Watchman right in the face. If she had kept calm, perhaps he would have looked away, but she panicked. As soon as the fear showed on her face, she could tell he marked her and at that, she decided to bolt.

The road was wide enough that she darted between the two of them, thought the best she could do was lose them in the city before hitting the docks. They both lunged and reached out, barely missing her sleeves. One guard tripped up when he tried to grab her, so was a few paces behind, but the other was almost within arms reach as she took off. 

"The Dark take you, girl! Stop!" the Watchman yelled as he barreled down the road after her. It was still filled with people making their way in and out of the market which gave her a slight advantage.  She ducked, dodged, and leaped away from the arms of passersbys trying help the guards and stop her. Seeing an exit, she fled down an alley, all the while cursing her absent parents and the so-called home she ran away from. It felt like years, but it had only been a few months since leaving Paderdun, to escape the shame of who and what she really was. Though she still didn't know for sure just what that was, only that she wasn't ready to face it.

Though now she was also a thief and marked. If caught, she'd be sold to the highest bidder. Cursing Jaspel and her lies, tears swelled up in her eyes and the wind pushed them down her cheeks as her legs began to run out of steam. She couldn't think straight, her chest pounded as the fear built up, making her lose her sense of direction. Weaving in and out of alleys had turned her around and she ended up running straight into a dead end. She flew into the wall with such force she thought she heard a bloody rib crack. The loaves of elf bread, which this had all been for, crumbled and fell to the ground. She banged her fist against the building and split open the side of her palm and blood began dripping to the ground. That's when she felt the first tingle. 

"It's no use now, girl. Come with me." The Watchman approached slowly with both arms stretched out, preparing for her to try and bolt around him. The other guard appeared behind him, shooed away the few onlookers who stopped to see what the commotion was about. 

She'd felt the tingling in her skin once before back home when Jaspel revealed her lies. A hotness. When the woman tried to explain that Daenna held magic within her and it would soon begin to rise.  She hadn't listened. She was too furious she'd been made me believe Jaspel was her real mother. And she'd learned from an early age that those with magic had been touched by the Dark. It was outlawed in every city in Altnahara and beyond. Even in Paderdun, among the mountains, away from most civilization, it was frowned upon.

Careful.  A voice in her mind said then as the guard took a few more steps towards her. Instead of listening to it, she picked up the closest rock and hurled it straight at his face, hit him in the eye. He screamed out, more in shock than in pain and covered his wound. Daenna took the opportunity and darted, hoping to evade them both by surprise. She jetted around the first but the second guard was ready for her, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back and down to the ground with a thud.

She began to claw at the guard, kick him but suddenly she was blinded by a bright light. It seemed to come at her from all angles. She thought it was from the fall, maybe she hit her head too hard. It filled her with agony. Perhaps they had used some power to shock her. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would go away.  She howled out in pain, as the light faded, she felt as though something ripped her chest apart and coursed through her. She looked down expecting to see a wound from the Watchman's sword, but he simply held his hand on her chest, pushing her down in the dirt, pinning her as she struggled to break free. Her body spasmed again, and another immense force surged through her.

"What in the Light is wrong with you?" The Watchman seemed as confused as she was, but kept the pressure on her chest until she finished seizing. Her rigid body began to relax, she felt heavy and sluggish.

She thought she may be sick with a fever, she was burning up, hotter than she'd ever felt, but deep down, she knew. She knew this was what she was truly running away from. Something she could never escape. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it surely wasn't what happened next. Her clothes caught aflame. She and the one who held her screamed, his attire catching fire as well. The other Watchman she'd hit, face bruised and bleeding, hurried towards them and tried to douse the flames but they only spread to his jerkin too as Daenna felt another surge and watched the flames grow bigger. They bellowed, screamed louder, looked at her in such horror as the flesh began to melt away from their faces. They both dove and rolled in a fit until they were flame-free. They lay still but Daenna could hear them moaning in pain and disbelief.  

Looking down, dazed, it took her a moment to realize she sat naked in the dirt. Her clothes, burned completely to ashes, floated in the air around her. She wondered why she no longer felt hot or any pain at all. Wasn't she burnt to a crisp? She thought maybe she was dead, just a spirit looking down at two men she probably killed alongside her. She brought her hands up to her cheeks to make sure she still had a face and saw the flames still dancing from her fingers. From her hands and arms, her shoulders, legs, feet. Everywhere. She was fire.

"She's the Phoenix! The Phoenix has risen!" An onlooker shouted and pointed at her. A small crowd had gathered but seemed too shocked to intervene. Her would-be captors still groaned and called weakly for help, unable to stand. But she could. She stood up trembling, remarkably unscathed and still burning. The gathered crowd parted for her and she didn't hesitate. She ran away again, as fast as she could.