Aleen

"My name is Jarrah. I’ve lived in the temple since I was a girl. I came to the Gods willingly when I was eight years old. With the divine help from the Gods, I am able to run a small successful fruit stand at this market, you see. All of my profits go directly to the temple, to which I owe my life. Had the Gods not lifted me up at such a young age, I fear I do not know where I’d be in such a vile time as this. If you devote your life, the way I have, you will have all the riches you have ever wanted and more, sweet girl." She spewed lies from her lips with a soft smile.

She practiced her character’s speech as if her life depended on it -- because it did. The young girl looked up at "Jarrah" and inspected her. She noted long, soft raven hair with a white streak flowing down the side. Her clothes shown simplicity while her voice spoke of salvation. Her eyes though, a brilliant green, seemed to convey a hidden message and although she seemed to be around the age of twenty or so, those eyes held a wisdom the little one could not decipher. The young girl, no older than seven, also felt as though there were hints of sadness, of coldness, and of warning in her speech.

The girl known as Jarrah looked past the little girl’s shoulder, through the thick crowded street market, at a man who gave a curt nod before he ducked into an alleyway. She instantly knelt down and took the girl’s shoulders in her hands. "Listen to me," she spoke in a low, deliberate voice, "My name is not Jarrah. There are no such things as the five mother gods. Do not believe anyone who tries to tell you otherwise. If you do not run now, you will be taken from here and you will never return. Do you hear me?"

The little girl’s eyes widened as she nodded in understanding. Her face dirty, her hair wildly unkept, her bare feet caked in mud, and her inability to steal an apple from a fruit stand made her an easy target -- an orphan -- a child looking for someone to take care of them. "What is your real name?" the girl asked.

"My name is Aleen. Here, just take it," and she shoved the apple into the little girl’s hand. "Go," she urged her. The little girl with the wild hair clutched the apple and took off running toward a group of other children.

Aleen stood up, satisfied with her choice to spare the girl. The man by the alleyway saw her actions and was none too pleased. She would have to face consequences.

Next Chapter: Rory