And then he saw her. He knew she was the one. She wore grayish brown pants that had once been white. They were too small, only reaching her ankles. Her feet were bare and dirty, calloused from lack of shoes. Her shirt was hidden under a mass of dirty gray shawls and striped blankets. Her hair was brown and tangled. It had once been glossy and clean, but now it was matted with dirt and grease. She carried a bundle of blankets, obviously holding her so-called possessions. Her eyes were small and beady, dark and wary. She had multiple scrapes and bruises on her face, and her lips were chapped from the cold. She was unprepared and unaware.
He knew he had to make his move. Now or never. Before she got away.

Authors Note: Heyyou! I wrote this at the young authors conference. I liked it a lot, and I plan to write more on it. For now, it's just a meager prologue. I hope I didn't piss to many of you guys off. ::teehee:: Oh, by the way, this character, Greava? Yea. She's mine. You'd best give her a wide berth. ::evil laughter::