Aurra was abandoned as a small child. She maintains only a few fleeting memories of her parents, mostly images and feelings.

A fiercely independent creature, Aurra moved through several orphanages and workhouses before deciding to make her own way in the shallows. Her pallid skin and initial malnourishment gave her a gaunt appearance and made begging difficult. She carried out a range of tasks to stay fed. These included: begging; taking rubbish about to be thrown into the river; and theft. She always avoided joining the gangs of children that formed within the districts outside the inner walls. On one hand she lost the protection and warmth that came with the gangs, but she avoided the disease from close contact and the adult criminals that tended to pick from them.

She killed her first person at age twelve. Refusing to join with the local children that were being sent to distribute packages through a network or criminals she was cornered by a grown man. The sliver of metal felt natural in her hands. She brought it down over and over until he stopped twitching.

Over time she became a more accomplished thief. Eventually her work attracted the attention of the wrong people. Especially after she robbed them. Aurra didn't understand Shallows politics and didn't realise she had stolen from a Rutland warehouse.

The Rutland are a large family of established merchants. As well as their honest businesses they are known to work in extortion, racketeering, smuggling stolen goods and getting illegal alcohol through the docks. Aurra was brought hissing and slitting before Javy Rutland, having left two of their enforcers nearly bleeding to death.

The Rutland saw a potential talent with no affiliation to another criminal organisation. Javy pulled out her little finger nail and gave her a choice. The opportunity to work for the Rutland and advance within their ranks or every other nail taken out and her thumbs broken.

Aurra took the job.

A bitter chill wind cut through her room, finding the gap in her blankets that had opened as she rolled over. That icy bite brought her out of a shallow sleep. Aurra grumbled and pulled the rags tighter around her slender frame. But it was no use now. She was very quickly wide awake. That was necessary. Where she slept was never safe. She could never afford the luxury of deep slumber.

Whilst she was reluctant to leave the warmth of several layers there was also no food left in the vicinity. She slowly stirred and rolled out of her covers. The clothes she wore hung off her malnourished frame. Deathly skin and sunken features did not go well together, giving her a harsh look. That was a real problem. Two girls her age who begged nearby had much softer features and earned far more than her.

She moved to the window. Unlike the others it hadn't been boarded up. Whilst it allowed the winter winds to blow through it was also her only entrance to the fire damaged house. The other children were not as able climbers.

Aurra was always an independent creature. The children from the gang that called this region of the shallows their own generally tolerated her presence. There were downsides as well as benefits to running with the gangs. They slept in large groups, huddled together for warmth. There was protection and safety in numbers. But there was also disease and the real criminals who used the gangs. Several girls she knew had been attacked by people within their groups as well.

Aurra moved cautiously as she approached the window. Partially so she could carefully take a look before making herself visible, but mostly because the fire damaged floor was unstable.

She peered down into the alley below. No sign of anyone down there. Aurra reached out of the opening, slender white fingers gripping the drain pipe. Down was easier than up. Even with her skeletal frame climbing was hard work and took previous energy. Energy she could ill afford with how little she ate.



Begging through the evening did not pay well. Those who walked this district had precious little coin to start with and there were a lot of beggars. Girls did better than the boys, but Aurra never did as well as some of the girls who looked more local.

When a shadow loomed over her and stayed there she was surprised to look up and see another one of the children. Normally she kept her head down and pleaded quietly for spare change. She looked down at the meagre collection of coins - barely enough for bread - and back up at the boy. Her hand clasped a small rock hidden under her clothes behind her back.

“Wot?”

“More coin’n that available if you want it.” She canted her head to one side and gave the boy a curious look. Older than her by a good few years, but still a long way from an adult.

“Did’n you hear me?”

“Doing wot?” She asked.

“Not much, stand about at night. Give someone a parcel. Easy coin. Come down warehouse three… one with a blue lion painted onnit in a bit.”

“Alrigh’” That seemed to appease him, she loosened her grip on the rock.



She wouldn't have gone to the warehouse, not normally. But she was shaky, weak, even after eating the bread the coins managed to stretch to. Aurra was genuinely worried she didn't have the strength to climb back up. In these conditions being down at street level without her blankets could be fatal.

For a while she hung back and watched, melding into the shadows. It wasn't a meeting for just her, that became clear as more and more children arrived. Not just the gang from her district, but the neighbouring ones too. They hissed and stared at each other, but no fights broke out. The reason for that became obvious when two burly adults came out and chaperoned the rest of the children inside. Aurra decided to tag along, following in a small group and them lingering at the back of a crowd of children.

They were being ushered forward and then were stepping up one at a time to be given a small parcel. Aurra followed along with the crowd, but kept shifting to let others past so she could remain near the back. Something deep in her gut told her this wasn't a good place to be.

Tilting her head to one side she attuned her hearing to the sound of voices. The grown ups near the back of the crowd were whispering in that tone that suggested they were trying not to be heard. And doing a bad job of it.

“You sure?”

“My man in the barracks hasn't lied before. He's the informant.”

“The blonde one. Next to komodi?”

“No, two back, muddy red top.”

“I see him, go take care of it.”

“The canals?”

“No, they've been coming up at the locks. The river.”

A normal child would never have understood what the conversation meant. Aurra wouldn't have either if she hadn't heard that word before. Informant. She'd seen the grown men who offered easy coin to the children use it before. Had seen what had happened when the word had been thrown out in accusation.

She saw the hand come to rest on the brownish red jumper. Not a harsh grip, but a firm one nonetheless. The boy was carefully extracted from the crowd with the least fuss and taken away.

Aurra decided to follow suite. This was dangerous work. Those packages would hold something bad. She'd watched them work from the shadows before. A naturally cautious creature, she often observed what the other homeless children in her district got up to. She'd learned from their successes as much as their failures.

She slipped out the way she had come, but not without being seen. The same man who had pointed out the blonde boy stepped into the crowd and started asking questions if the children.



Normally she would have been more careful checking the alley before making for the window. But tonight she was tired, had barely eaten. It would take most of her strength just to get back to her room. Her quiet, safe room.

Barely a few feet up and she spotted movement. She tried to scramble faster but fingers took an iron grip around one ankle. Someone much stronger, and far heavier than her took that grip. Her own fingers barely kept their purchase for a second before she came down. Her head caught the wall as she came down, the rough masonry scraping her forehead.

She at least managed to put her hands between herself and the flagstones rather than coming down on her chin. Frantically kicking she tried to drag herself along the ground, but then she was pinned by a heavy weight. Aurra went very still. There might have been a moment to escape coming, but this wasn't it. Further struggle would just waste her reserves. It had always been like this. When danger came she didn't panic. Her anger and resentment went from fire in her core to ice in her veins. Fingers curled into her palms and her nails drew blood. She was an especially patient and analytical creature when frightened.

She felt a hand grasp the top of her head. Suddenly she found her features exposed to the night sky. She turned her head to look back at her assailant, but before she could those strong fingers took a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back painfully.

He's trying to identify me. Why?

“You left the meeting earlier. Why?”

She didn't reply. An open palm came down on the side of her head. Not enough to really hurt, but it sent a shock of pain right through her jaw, left her dazed for an instant.

“Why?”

“Did’n want the work.”

“It pays. You ratting on us?” His voice was deep. Anger forced it into something between a growl and a whisper.

“I ain't a rat. Didn't want to get picked up by the law. That's why I left.”

“Law don't care if you're kind is holding goods or not. They treat you the same either way, just for being seen.”

His voice had changed. Slow drawn out words. He was thinking and this was apparently a slow process. Aurra tried to shift one leg but found his weight just as overbearing as before.

“Just to be safe we're gonna ship you off to the Black Bay. Informant or not we'll send you away and find you new work. Work you won't like."

There was always a chance. Normally she could feel it coming. A way to escape. A narrow alley, a crowd, a distraction. But the ease with which he picked her whole body up made her concern grow that there would be no chances here.

The house she had been living in was seriously fire damaged. All the windows bar one boarded up with thick wood. He smashed in the door with two swift kicks.

He was a gnarled knot of muscle. One milky white eye and cleft palate gave him an even more intimidating demeanour. Neesa went limp, waiting for a chance. He threw her down and propped up the door behind them.

"Always work to be found," he grunted. Aurra looked around, she'd never been down to the ground floor of the building. From down here the broken, charred beams above were dark and foreboding. The ground was covered in a fine, slippery layer of soot. There was still a fire damaged painting hung across one wall, the charred and deformed visage of the house's previous occupants looking down upon them.

Aurra looked up at the damaged walls above. The remains of the staircase were skeletal remains. She was light, he was heavy. There was a chance she could climb back up to the upper levels where he couldn't.

She pushed herself up from the ground, hands and clothes blackened. Neesa turned to run for the staircase, but even her weight was too much for the second beam. It fractured beneath her weight and tipped her back down to the ground.

He was quicker than she had expected, barrelling into her and shoving her down. His hands clawed at her robes to find purchase. He started dragging her across the ground. As he looked down upon her she could read, with almost crystal clarity, the thoughts running through his mind. That cold terror she had been able to focus became a desperate fear she could not control. Aurra felt hot bile creep up her throat. His hands were impossibly strong. She clawed desperately at the floor boards, achieving nothing more than leaving two fingernails behind.

Control your fear, use it, she told herself. It seemed too great. Then, on impulse, she threw her hand into a pile of debris she was being dragged past, hands curling around something cold and hard.

Silver glinted through the black coating. A knife. He saw it too.

"Now girl..."

But that terror had hardened again. She swiped at his arm, leaving a bright trail of red. He recoiled as she scrabbled back up to her feet. Now there was rage behind his eyes. Her grip tightened on the shard of metal. It felt right in her hand.

She feigned a strike from the right. He swung a balled fist. She was ducking before she even saw the strike coming. Stepping to her left under the arm and then bringing the blade back from her left in a backhand slash. Her strike was true, opening his throat in one swing. How she had found the strength, she didn't know.

He fell away, clutching desperately at his throat. Tripping on a crack in the floor he went down and she followed. He slender body landed atop his, the blade glinted just once more in the half light. Down it came, again and again. The warmth of his lifeblood soon covered her arm, but even when he was still she kept bringing it up and down. He represented everything that had sought to control her, to own her, to keep her down in the gutter.



It was half an hour before she managed to lift herself off his cooling body. Some part of her mind was distraught at what had just happened, but that practical side was in charge again.

Check him for coins and weapons, gather your things and leave before any more can come.

He had coin, more than she had ever held before. Only a hundred or so, but a small fortune to Aurra. He also had a real blade, one she kept tucked beneath her rags.

That night she migrated to a district on the far side of the town centre. Belly full of food and rage the gang of children there kept their distance as she found a suitable doorway for the night.