Yara Juveya. Thief, Soldier, Explorer.

"That's right! You better run! 'Cause if I find you, you'll be cut to pieces! I mean it!" The angry butcher held the knife in his hand and crept through his silent, dark store. It was well beyond night, and the store was closed, but there was a thief in the premise that he had to catch and cut to pieces. He knew there was a thief because half of his sausages were gone. Who steals have a roll of sausages without being caught?

"Come out, you sausage-loving coward! You can't hide from me! There's no such thing as hiding where I come from. And I kill people who steal from me!"

Yara looked down at the angry, short butcher with his shiny, silver knife. He was walking under her, twirling and looking for her, the thief. She had outsmarted him for sure by finding a hiding place on the ceiling, the one place she knew that he wouldn't look. The two walls were close enough so that she could fortify herself with her legs while flattening her back onto the ceiling. To anyone who didn't spend years stretching would find the position extremely uncomfortable, but her mother always wanted her to be a dancer.

She held a small light fissure with a gloved hand, while holding an apple in the other. She didn't steal the sausages like he thought, but she did steal the apple. She didn't even like sausages. What she wanted to do was briefly get his attention so that he could come back under her. She needed to get something from his back pocket and it would be impossible if he wasn't right under her.

The silver key was in his back pocket, right in the place where she could steal it. She took a quiet breath and bit into the apple. The bite was crisp and a bit too loud. Perfect.

The butcher turned around, but didn't look up.

"Teasing me, now aren't ya you little rascal. I heard you." He began to come back towards her, slowly and cautiously.

I'm sorry I stole from you, she thought. But I promise that it'll help you in the future. I promise.

With her chin she pressed a button that was on the back of her glove. A slim strip of light under her knuckles glowed. She slowly let go of the apple as it began to hover in the air. It lowered down and down until it was in front of the butcher's face. He dropped his knife and stared at it. His face faded to the color of death.

"Good god! It's the apple!" He froze, fear becoming apparent in his voice. "Please don't hurt me, apple! I promise that I will do good, I promise!"

Yara dropped to the ground silently and stealthily snatched the key away from his back pocket. She would've used the glove if she could only figure out how to pull objects toward her. The crazed butcher continued to yell at the floating apple as she managed to sneak away. When she got to the door, her foot propping it open, she drew the apple towards her, along with the butcher's fear filled gaze. The fear didn't last long when he caught a glimpse of her before she fled into the street. The butcher wasn't fat and slow, but he wasn't a very good runner either. Trying to catch her would be extremely pointless and a waste of energy.

Yara snaked through ally ways, crossed streets, and scaled walls until she was able to slide herself through a small, open window at the top of a nearly hundred story building.

As soon as she entered, she immediately fell to one knee, held the silver key in her palm, and raised it up. She didn't bother to look up because she wasn't allowed. No one was allowed.

The only things that she was able to see were the small, marble circle on which she kneeled on, a circle that was completely separate from the rest of the carpeted floor, and her white boots that she polished every day.

"Your highness, I retrieved the key."

"Yes, you did. Quite a job you've done."

"Please, don't hurt the butcher, your highness."

"I won't, Primi Yara, don't you worry."

She felt the key retrieved from her hand.

"Tell me, Primi Yara…how did you manage to get the key from the butcher? You were not armed, but yet he was."

"I played a trick on his mind, your highness. The butcher is known to be deathly afraid of flying apples due to a traumatizing dream he had as a child." She thought she could hear laughter.

"That's creative and very thorough. You read a profile on the butcher?"

"I must know my enemy."

"Yes, you do. And you've done a great job. I'm impressed by your standards."

Yara stood. Bowed. "Thank you, Emperor." She turned on her heel, and dived out the window into the violet darkness.