In the city, leaves do not curl under the oppression of an approaching winter. Instead, papers describing how some man cheated his taxes, CVS bags, and wrappers that have lost their candy bar float around corners and lay damp in the storm drains. The baby that lay in a dumpster between Yum’s Chinese Food and American Steak House and the 24 Hour Pawn Shop did not seem to feel the cold. It wasn’t dressed for the chill, in fact all it had was a moth eaten towel and the relative warmth of rotting General Tso’s. The child was silent, its eyes glazing over as it skirted the edge of death. It would have died there, if something had not caught the baby’s attention. A crow, not a usual native to the city, circled her above. It swooped about before landing quietly on the edge of the dumpster. Child and crow seemed to size each other up and something deep within the baby girl clicked years too soon. The infant gurgled faintly and struggled to gain the motor skills to touch the black crow perched scant inches away. The crow, intrigued bent lower and nipped the child’s stomach, the girl gripped its feathers with the fearlessness of innocence. The crow cocked its head considering the child before it. A movement at the front of the alley startled the crow and sent it fluttering into the sky. The baby gasped and watched as the crow flew out of sight. It was not the cold or the plastic knife cutting newborn skin that caused the child to cry then, but the absence of the first and only living creature the baby girl had seen. It was that crying that saved the child, because the next sound she heard was the smooth voice of a man.

“Well well, daddy hit the jackpot this time.”

The fair at Yum’s Chinese Food and American Steak House was far less than supreme, as the name so indicated. The only thing keeping the place in the black was the fact that the food was edible and cheap, and it was this fact that kept Dane from going else where for food. The eighteen year old girl perched on a bar stool located, not at a bar but at the counter of Yum’s. She was dressed as one who had no alternative dressed. She hovered protectively over her plate as she ate, her ragged, dark fingers gripping the plastic fork and knife as though someone might snatch it from her. Her black hair was long and was in the process of growing longer, her limp Mohawk was becoming a Fauxhawk. If she hadn’t been eating her deep azure eyes would have been darting around memorizing the places of things and marking each as weapon or non-weapon. Her body was lean, and not just because she could not feed herself reliably, but because Dorian made sure she kept it that way. Dorian…she coughed once and shoved more food in.

Dane was amazed that years of eating this food hadn’t killed her already. This she thought even as she jammed two more forkfuls of General Tso’s chicken into her hungry mouth. This was the last of her money for now, so she fought to remember what it felt like to have food in her mouth while trying not to stuff her self too quickly.

“You likey food eh?” said the Chinese man watching her eat. Dane arched her eyebrow at him as she ate. “You alaways eat hea. So food good yes? I giva you extra because you are best costuma.” She gulped the water in front of her and then gave the man a burp in response. She knew the owners of the restaurant personally; they had probably told the man to give her extra. She didn’t want that kind of attention from anybody but Dorian, but she wasn’t one to turn aside more food. The owners were nice, but they knew little about her aside from her being homeless. It was their generosity that sparked the odd relationship, and maybe in their eyes odd family. Dane just knew better than to decline something given freely.

“Tell Mr. and Mrs. Saito I said thanks.” Dane said quietly, her voice rolling like soft thunder. She finished and tossed the crumpled bills and exact change on the counter. She strolled to the door and exited, moving as one whose body knew more about life than the mind that governed it. It was dusk and the streetlights were just warming and flickering to life. Dane gave a sigh as she looked around her; she always seemed to notice more just before nights like these. She noticed the brown, curled leaves of a potted plant that had been left on the fire escape too long, the laundry that had fallen victim to a flock of birds, the pusher trying to look casual on the known corner, and the steam from the sewer rising in the chilled air. Perhaps she noticed it all because she wasn’t ever sure what would happen when she descended those steps and flexed her constantly sore muscles. She waited on the corner until the light closest to her stopped flickering, that meant it was 7:45, she had fifteen minutes to get to the ring.

Taking one last look around she fell into a lumbering step designed to make her self look bigger and tougher than she was. The two stained hoodies she wore helped to that effect as did the abandoned military issue boots and the pants that were two sizes to big and always would be. It was mostly that she hadn’t been able to steal clothes that fit that particular day. Happening upon the woman with the gym bag had been a small blessing though. Now she didn’t have to fight in her only clothes, she could don the designer sports bra and pants.

Dane felt the General give a toss in her stomach as she neared the warehouse district. The rusty chain-linked fences reminded her of the ring, needing to vanquish the growing knot of butterflies Dane took a detour on her way and found the warehouse that had once stored lumber. A fire had cleaned out most of it years ago and the former owners just let the lease run out, by then the whole area was considered outdated and useless so no one had come to clean the place out. Dane kicked at the stubborn door until it caved in, the butterflies were still there so she went in and found the first pile of old lumber she could remember. Her fists broke them all.

She gave a sniff and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. The butterflies were gone now and she was ready. Dane ran the last few hundred feet to her destination. She stopped in front of an enormous door, out of which a cruder door had been cut, and slammed her fist on it three times. She took a step back and adjusted the gym bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah yeah yeah!” she heard, the voice muffled by the heavy metal of the door. “Whaddya want?” A beefy man roared as the door swung violently open. Dane jumped aside easily and aimed a silent look at the man. He looked around wildly, his gaze missing her until he thought to look down. “Oh Dane…get yer scrawny ass in here, Dorian has been raisin’ holy hell about you bein’ late again. Yer gonna forfeit if ya don’t hurry!”

Dane swore and slapped the man on the shoulder as she ran past. “Thanks Harry!” She flew down the poorly constructed hallways of the warehouse, taking turns only practice could remember. The second room on the right of the eighth hallway housed Dorian, and he did not look pleased. The muscle shirt outlined his defined and toned muscles. Everything about him said hard, cold, and handsome. His salt and pepper hair was gelled down to his skull and his dark eyes were fixed on her as if she were little more than the dust that settled on the counter he stood at. Dane opened her mouth to explain but Dorian caught her with a punch to the stomach. The General Tso’s came unbidden from her mouth as Dane bent under the force of his fist. The gym bag fell to the dirty floor.

“Next time, don’t be late so you can stuff your face, at least now you won’t be slower than you normally are.” Dorian spat. “Get down there, you opponent has been waiting!” Dorian gripped Dane’s arm and stood her upright. “Stand up straight… I don’t have time for this.” Dane snapped to attention as Dorian pulled the hoodies over her head. He looked down at the gym bag and unzipped it.

“Found something better eh?” Dane was silent. “Okay then, change and get down there! I’m going to go stall for you…” Dorian left muttering about how he was going to accomplish that. Dane waited until the door closed before she held her stomach and winced.

“I should have been expecting that” she said to her self as she stepped away from the puddle of partially digested General Tso’s and to the liberated gym bag. It took her no time to change, though she cut about six inches from the pants because she hated fighting with her calves covered, she had tripped once in full length pants. Dorian had taught her to never allow that again. Finally, she took a thin piece of the cut up pants and tied her thin strip of hair back and out of her face.

Barefoot, she raced down the stairs she had feared earlier and padded through the ground dust of the ring. All around her men, drunk, high, and rich howled around her. It was here all of her worries and fears truly left her. The chain link and graffiti covered walls brought her a calm she felt no where else and as she stepped past the chain link door and into the chain link cage she stood facing a man almost twice her size, she was truthfully unafraid. Somewhere in the background a male voice over a microphone shouted her name, and the name of her opponent. She stretched languidly, moving all of her muscles at once, and moved her left foot back and raised her fists. The man in front her grinned, and Dane decided his yellow teeth would have to make friends with the dusty floor.

Dane tensed and coiled as she waited. Finally the bell, the most important sound she had ever heard, resonated over the crowd and she leaped forward to meet the man in combat. She landed the first punch, clean across his jaw. His head snapped to one side and she prepared for a kick to send him back, but he caught her hand and punched her square in the face. Dane struggled to pull free and protect her body with only one arm and failed as the man pummeled her stomach and chest. In an act of desperation she dropped to her knees and elbowed him in the groin. The man, caught unawares in his punching spree roared in pain and tossed the girl into the chain link wall like a rag doll.

Dane hit the wall and fell limply to the floor, she coughed and spat blood, and the makeshift hair tie fell to the ground. The crowd cheered and laughed. She could hear Dorian cursing her to get to her feet. She rolled onto her back, getting a glance at her opponent who howled and nursed his bruised manhood as though it were life itself. Dane suddenly felt very heavy as she lay on her back on the floor in the cage. She couldn’t get up, had no reason really. The man was recovering and would be on her in a second, her life would be over then. No reason for him not to kill her, Dorian could find another, and her opponent would get bragging rights. Dane had been right, that very second her opponent closed his fingers around her neck and lifted her from the floor. Dane hung from his grip like a dead thing, her lungs frantically trying to pull air past his tight fingers.

“No, just stay right here Dane,” she thought. “This war, this life is over.” Dane felt her eyes beginning to glaze over as suffocation blanketed them. It was then something caught her attention, a familiar movement to her dying eyes. A black crow perched on the fence lining the cage. It stared directly at her, as if assessing her situation. It cocked its head as if to say. “Quitting now?” and gave its wings a flap, ignoring the raving crowd.

“Don’t you sleep?” Dane wondered as the crow eyed her.

It was not the desire to please Dorian, or the respect winning this fight would bring her that roused the fire within her. It wasn’t even her vague sense of self-preservation, but the eyes of the black crow, knowing so much about her at that very second. Dane fought death for the second time in her life and struck plucking out the eyes of her assailant with two lighting fast hands.

He didn’t let go immediately, no. In fact he held on, and in her hazy vision Dane could see straight into his mind. She saw the cogs working and turning at lightning speed. It took his brain a painfully long time to understand what had happened, no more sight nerve endings torn, eyes crushed to pulpy tissue in Dane’s fists. All at once his scream drowned out the cries of the crowd driven into frenzy. He dropped Dane, who coughed and gripped her neck, and brought his hands up to his face not understanding he could not see them. Dane finally managed to get some good breaths into her lungs as the man was dragged away to be put out of his misery, and Dorian came to her and helped her to her feet.

“I knew you had it in you! I thought you were gone for a second oh yes! But not a pupil of mine oh no!” Dorian clapped her back and then turned to the group of men pressing to congratulate Dane. “Out of the way dogs! She doesn’t need ya get outta the way!” He gripped her shoulders and pulled her roughly ahead of him as the crowd broke to let them through. All of this fell on Dane’s uncaring eyes and ears. If the crow had not been there Dane knew she would have died. Her victory was the crow’s victory. She looked back to the crow and it tilted its head and gazed at her as Dorian led her further away. It was not Dorian’s tight grip on her sore shoulders, or the fact that she had almost died that night that made Dane cry for the second time in her life. No, it was the crow as it flapped its wings, circled the arena once and disappeared through a hole in the ceiling.