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Cities were the worst.
They were always too bright, too loud, too much. People everywhere, moving and making sounds and swirling around her. Cassandra didn't like it.
She liked quiet and no people and grass and trees. But it was easier to find little girls when they were the only ones around.
Cassandra didn't want to be found.
So she ducked her head lower and pressed between people, trying to find a place she could sleep.
The more she walked, the dimmer the signs, the fewer the people, the stranger their sounds. It got quiet, but Cassandra didn't like this kind of quiet. It was tense-muscles quiet, hard-face quiet. Danger quiet.
She found an empty doorstep, rotting wood boarding up the door. No one would mind her here. Only one side was open to attack. If she curled up facing that side, with her legs just so, she could get up and fight in a second. She laid down and tried to sleep.
She heard a loud bang, and then a scream.
She sprang up, ready to fight, and heard the scream again, muffled or farther off. The voice was young-pain-fear.
Cassandra ran.
She kept running towards where the sound had come from, even though the voice was gone. As she drew closer she heard other voices, all grown-up men, speaking in mean-laughing-angry tones. A thud like a kick and the young voice yelped.
Cassandra peered around a corner to see three men dragging a boy through big doors into a building that was old-musty-breaking. A fourth man followed, watching and laughing with crazy-cruel-delighted. The boy was trying to get away, but he was hurt. He kept trying to shield his left side from the men.
She crept closer as the people went inside the building, planning her attack. She knew the men were going to hurt the boy if she didn't stop them.
Nobody should get hurt.
The room inside the building was open and wide. Cassandra would not be able to hide in there. She needed to be very fast.
The men were tying the boy to a thick beam. His face twisted with pain-anger as the ropes tightened around him. Cassandra saw a splotch on his left side that was too red and dark.
Her own body tensed with anger.
The pale laughing man stepped close, getting in the boy's face, talking like mean-excited as he gripped the boy's chin. The boy talked back angry-scared-desperate. The man slapped the boy, then laughed and patted his cheek. The boy's voice quavered.
Cassandra waited just until the man moved away from the boy before she attacked.
She heard the shouts of surprise-fear-anger as the men saw her, and saw them reach for weapons. She hurtled through them, knocking metal things out of their hands and striking them away from the boy. It would be an easier fight if she could go in the middle of the men, but then one could back away and threaten the boy.
She wouldn't let them hurt him.
Strike, dodge, kick. Twist, flip him over her shoulder, bones snap. The pale man wasn't laughing anymore, just yelling angry-mean at the others as he backed away. Cassandra needed to get to him, but she had to get the others first. One was down and groaning, not getting up.
Feint, punch, duck. Strike, and another man fell. The boy shouted in fear-urgent-shock.
A half-second to glance at the boy and the last two men. A hit and the third man went down.
A bang and pain burst in Cassandra's shoulder as she lunged at the pale man, who was laughing again.
He was not laughing after she knocked him to the ground and slammed his head against the strange stone.
The boy was still talking in shock-fear, but now also worry-relief. Cassandra got up and walked to him. Hot-wet-red was running down her arm.
The boy kept talking, twisting to look at her as she moved behind him to tug at the knots. His brow was worry-pinched, eyes pointed at her shoulder. Cassandra paused to smile and pat his arm.
She untied his hands, then the ropes around his middle. As soon as they went slack, the boy crumpled with a yelp of surprise-pain.
She crouched beside him, gently pushing his hand away from his side so she could see the hurt. He tried to reach for her shoulder, still talking, but she moved away. She set him leaning against the pole and tugged at his shirt.
It was strange and thick, and tough. Bad that blood was coming through. The boy understood though, and let her help him shimmy out of it. She frowned as she pulled it over his head, coming face-to-face with the strange cover over his eyes.
He spoke again, voice pinched with pain-worry, reaching for her shoulder. She shook her head, pushing him gently to sit back. His voice tinged with frustration, but she tore a sleeve off the shirt and pressed it to the ugly, weeping, red hole in his skin. He hissed, face screwing up in pain.
Cassandra hummed, voice gentle-sweet-comfort, like she had seen other people talk when someone was hurt or upset. It made the boy look more confused than anything, but it kept him still.
Cassandra heard the doors burst open just before there was an awful roar of rage-terror-desperate, and whipped around to defend the boy from the huge shadow that tore inside. But the boy shouted in relief-thanks-happy, looking past her at the shadow.
The shadow gasped just one talk-word, falling into a run that carried it to the boy's side. Cassandra frowned, but backed away, because the boy was so happy and the shadow was so gentle once it drew close.
As the shadow looked over the boy's hurt, Cassandra could see it was a man. The boy leaned into him, talking shaky-relieved, and the man talked back low-soothing-scared.
Was the man the boy's... she knew this word...
Father?
Cassandra was startled when the boy and his father both turned to look at her, the boy speaking awe-quiet-thankful. She stood up and made to leave, but both voices called worry-wait-stay, and she hesitated.
The Father's words were soft-gentle-urging, and the way he leaned towards her as he lifted the boy off the ground made her think he was talking to her now. She shook her head, both to tell him she didn't understand and that she had to go.
Then the boy spoke, weak-scared-pleading, and reached out one hand to her.
Cassandra looked between the boy and the father. Both bodies told her they wanted her to come.
It might not be safe.
It might be safer than she'd ever been.
She took the boy's hand.