The sound, mystic and forbidden, floated through the air around the girl. Weaving in and out of the trees the reverberations, music it was once known as, spread through the deep forest. No one would hear and no one would know, or at least that's what the girl told herself. It was the promise she had created to calm her conscience, so fear wouldn't stop her from doing the thing she loved most. Making music. It was a glorious thing, a magical thing; something once loved and abundant to unheard of and illegal. The girl often dreamed of a world where music was allowed, even appreciated, but then she would wake up to her reality. She would go back to living in fear, her music silent, until she could find a place away from everyone. A hidden place where she could be herself and get lost in the music.

Like right at this moment, the girl was losing herself in the sound her baritone made, the music that she was making. It wafted around her, mixing with the wind that whispered in her ears. It wasn't easy to find a safe place to play her baritone, as it was a large instrument and made quite a loud sound. But the girl made due, finding secluded areas of the forest where she could sit on the trunk of a fallen tree and create a deep, throbbing song filled with all the pain and frustration of her life. Emotions that drove her to attempt the unthinkable, life threatening risks, again and again, everyday. Risks that would give her brother a heart attack if he knew about them.

"Creak!" Her brother called to her, forcing her to stop her playing. "What do you think you're doing!"

Creak's brother, Stans, stood in front of her, his arms crossed across his chest in irritation. His voice, full of exasperation, continued berating her before she had a chance to explain. "You know what would happen if you were caught, don't you? How many times do I have to tell you before you understand the danger? You know if mother and father were here they would-"

Creak cut her brother off with a swift exclamation, "But they're not here, Stans! They left us and they're never coming back!" Creak could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, a burning pain that spread from her heart to every part of her body.

Perhaps  feeling the same pain or just seeing it in his baby sister's eyes, Stans let go of his anger and wrapped his arms around Creak. Drawing her close and stroking her hair, he whispered to her, "Hey, it's okay. I'm here Creak. I'll always be here... with you. I'll never leave you."

Creak rubbed the wetness from her eyes and looked up at her brother. She could hardly believe how much he had changed since their parents had left. He was nothing like the soft, innocent boy he had once been. He was more protective, a father figure to Creak after their real father had disappeared when she was only five years old and he was eleven.
"You promise," she asked looking in his eyes for any hint of deceit. But all she found in his pale, green eyes, the eyes of their mother, was sincerity.

"I promise to never leave you."

Creak sighed, satisfied, and shrugged out of his embrace. "I don't understand why it hurts so much. I can't even remember them, why do I even care that they're gone? I shouldn't care so much, Stans."

It was true that she couldn't remember her father, but she did remember a little of her mother, which only succeeded in making her more confused. If her memory served her right, then her mother was a kind, soft spoken lady with unfathomable beauty. A mother who loved her children with all her heart and would never leave them to fight for survival on their own. Her mother wasn't the kind of person who would just leave in the middle of the night and never come back, but with no explanation she had.

Stans looked down at her with sympathetic eyes, "It's okay to care, Creak. They were our parents and they loved us."

"How could you know that?" He sounded so sure that what he said was true, but Creak couldn't believe it, no matter how much she wanted to.

"I know because I remember it. The love that was in the air on the humid, spring nights when we would sleep outside on the roof and look up at the stars. Father would point out all the constellations and mother would call him out on the ones he had made up. Father would try so hard to impress mother by know something she didn't, but she was smart and no lie could get past her. You know... you constantly remind me of our mother, Creak. So smart, even without a proper education."

Stans's eyes had that glazed over look they got when he remembered the memories Creak didn't have of their parents. Good memories, the ones you keep locked in a part of your mind so you never forget them.

Creak sighed and walked away with her baritone in her arms, leaving her brother to reminisce. She walked to her case, which was a few feet away, the grass soft between her toes. At times like these she was glad she didn't have to wear shoes, they were expensive and kept her feet from experiencing things like the grass. When she was six, a year after her parents had left, she had grown out of her old shoes and Stans had promised to buy her a new pair. But, as every year passed he could still never come up with the money. Creak wasn't upset though, she understood that her brother tried, but with the ever increasing prices of food they always struggled to make ends meet.

Creak shook the worrying past from her head, telling herself that the future would bring better times. She knelt down in the grass and placed her instrument in it's case. When Stans wasn't worrying about the danger of having her baritone, he often marveled at how the thing was still intact. The case was made out of solid oak, which made it easy to keep hidden among the trees. But, bad weather was not good on the wood and, after many years of being outside, the case was rotting away.
Creak knew the case would eventually decompose and she would need to find another way to protect her baritone.

She smacked the iron latches on the case, keeping it locked, and sending a rather loud click through the air. Stans, having remember the reason he had come into the forest, grabbed Creak's arm and spun her around to face him. "Creak, you know you can't keep doing this?" He glanced down at the molding case with green eyes full of pain. "It's not safe."

Creak wanted to argue, wanted to tell her brother that if she didn't make music than she would be doing exactly what King Florence wanted. She would be giving into the fear that the royal family had plagued over Florencia for years. But, she didn't want to get into this conversation with her brother, she didn't want him worrying about her and how she felt the need to rebel against the king. She looked up at Stans, hoping he could see sincerity in her eyes and not the deceit that she hind beneath it. "I won't play again. I understand the risks Stans, I really do. But, you more than anyone should understand how hard it is to let go of the things you love the most."

Her words hit right where she wanted them and Stans's eyes softened. "It's okay. I know it's hard, but it must be done. Now come on we have to find some food before it gets dark."

Creak nodded and ran off to put her baritone in the large hollow of an oak tree. Her case fit in perfectly and camouflaged well enough that no one would find it unless they were looking. Then she went back to her brother and they continued through the forest, on their way to

* * *

The small village of Riverfall was conveniently placed by a fast flowing river and a steep cliff drop off, keeping the people living there protected on two sides. What they were protecting themselves from by picking this spot to build? Creak had no idea and often thought the people of Riverfall were a paranoid bunch of commoners. Not that they were any worse than Creak or Stans, who didn't even make enough money to rent a room in the small village's inn. No, the people of Riverfall were not bad, just a little bit more weird than your normal group of peasants. They believed that there were dark, magical creatures that lived in the forest and feed off the souls of urchins. Seeing as Creak was an urchin and, as far as she knew, still had a perfectly intact soul, she knew that the village rumors didn't hold much truth.

Creak walked behind her brother, his dark shadow looming over her, as they entered the village. Picking up her pace to walk alongside Stans, she looked around and asked, "Where and when do you want to meet?" Being blunt and straight to the point with him like she always was.
When she had gotten to be ten years old Stans had finally allowed her to find food on her own. He had been reluctant at first, but when food became scarcer it was necessary to split up. They could cover more ground separate than they could together, and after a few days of being on her own, Creak found that more people would just give her food if they thought she was all by herself.

Not sparing the scraps for a young, orphan girl was like the king not feeding the prisoners in his dungeon. Considering at least one member from about every peasant family had been arrested at one point in their life, they understood the pain of malnourishment and being alone.
Creak had thought it was crazy that so many people from the kingdom had once been in the king's dungeons, but Stans had told her that the king was strict on taxes and wouldn't mind throwing someone in the deep, musty cells that resided beneath his castle if they were late on a payment.

It seemed to Creak that most people disliked the king. All she had ever heard about him was from the villagers of Riverfall and the occasional group of traders that came by thrice a year, and what she knew? Well, they had nothing nice to say in regards to King Florence.

But, the hatred that resided in the Florencians didn't come as a surprise to Creak, as the king's father was the man that had restricted any sort of music in Florencia, and the kingdom was shriveling up like a wilting flower under his rule. Creak knew something had to be done, someone had to take the kingdom from the Florence family and bring back the prosperity that it had once been in. Someone had to bring music back into the people's lives.

Shaking thoughts of treason from her head, Creak listened as her brother made the game plan. "Okay, we'll meet behind that abandon bard at the outskirts of the village, you know the place we slept last night." Creak nodded remembering the nasty, aged structure filled with cobwebs and noisy rats. Sleeping there had been hard and Creak resented having to go through it all over again. "Oh," Stans continued, "make sure to be there before sunset, we wouldn't want to be out in the dark."

Creak could fully agree with him on that. Riverfall was not the place to be roaming around at night, with a steep cliff on one side and a fast flowing river on the other. Not to mention the small congregation of boys, who called themselves the Carsons after Carson's Cliff, and like to go around and mug commoners. Creak just thought they were a bunch of gangster wannabes, though that didn't mean she was ignorant enough to cross them. She had plenty of other survival problems to worry about and didn't need a threat on her life to add to the list.
Creak swiftly walked along the streets, the broken cobblestones scraping against her feet. She decided the best place to start was the bakery, a place where she was sure to get a loaf of stale bread and maybe an unsold, sweet pastry. Valen, the baker, had always had a soft spot for Creak, after she had befriend his eldest son, Oliver.
As sneaky as a fox, she quickly climbed over the stone fence that guarded Valen's small backyard. Her bare feet didn't make a sound as she trotted to the back door and lightly tapped on it.

"Just a second Creak!" Valen's baritone voice flowed through an open window beside her. Soon she heard the tread of heavy feet as someone came to unlock the door. The sliding of the bolt shifting out of place and the door squeaking on its rusted hinges were the only sounds that brought Valen in front of her. He was a large man, at least two feet taller than Creak, who wasn't tall by any means. His thick, black bread was a tangle of knots like normal; his deep brown eyes shone with warmth and kindness.

"Here you go sweetheart. We've been saving some extra for ya, with winter coming and all that. You're gonna need some meat on those bones to keep you warm." Valen handed Creak a large picnic basket filled to the brim with loafs of bread. She couldn't believe he was going to give her so much food. Creak knew times were tough and Valen had been good to her over the years, she was a little reluctant to take so much from him.

"Are you sure?" Creak asked, gingerly plucking the basket from his thick fingers. It was heavier than she had expected and almost slipped out of her hands.

"I'm as sure as the king's genie is old and heaven knows that guy has been around forever. Now be off with you before those pesky Royal guards come snooping at my door for their own handouts." Valen smiled and  shooed her away. Creak heard the click of his lock as he closed the door, leaving her on her own once again.

Rolling her eyes at his haste to be rid of her, Creak clambered back over the fence. She continued on her quest for food, eagerly staying in the shadows where no one would see her. She went through numerous amounts of spoiled garbage until the fowl sent followed behind her like a sour memory, a constant reminder of where she was in life.

Just as the first rays of sunlight faded behind distant hills, Creak began her trek to the abandoned barn. She decided to take her time on getting back, as she was clearly not eager to be cooped up in an old barn like some sort of livestock.

She turned into a narrow alley that would lead her right out of the village and in the direction she needed to go, as a hollow laugh sounded behind her. Her nerves sparking, Creak slowly turned around to find the source of the noise.

"Right on time street rat." He stood right in front of her, a young man who's likely relation could only be that of a scarecrow. His empty, grey eyes set her whole soul on edge as he glanced over her thin figure.

Creak could feel the presence of others behind her, blocking her only escape. It was a mistake turning around when she had heard that laugh, she should have run the second it had touched her ears.

Keeping her face ceiled, Creak looked at the scarecrow man, taking in his rugged appearance. His frame wasn't much more than a stick figure, with extremely long legs and abnormally large hands, hands that she didn't want anywhere near her.

She looked straight at his face, hollow cheekbones and chapped lips which he unconsciously ran his tongue over. "What do you want?" She forced her voice into a bored tone even as her muscles tensed to run.
"Well, since you asked," Scarecrow started, the grin of a pediphial split his face. "My friends and I just want a small tax, as you are passing through our territory, Carson terrain."

Creak wouldn't give the Carson's anything, but she needed time to concoct an escape. "A tax? I don't know... I don't really have anything that would be of use to the fearsome Carson Clan." Creak exaggerated her movements as she turned her head to glance along the walls that surrounded her two sides. A window, fairly high along the left building. If she could manage to scale the wall and reach the window's ledge, then she could pull herself up and, if luck was on her side, the window would be unlocked and she could escape through the building.
She could do it.

"Oh, don't cut yourself short beauty. I for one think you have plenty to offer." Scarecrow looked her up and down, his eyes stopping at her chest. Creak felt heat rush to her face in disgust as the young man licked his lips again. The sooner she got away to better.

"You really think so!" She forced her voice into a girly charm and resisted the urge to cross her arms. Slowly she shifted away from the building with the window, giving herself room for a running start.

"Of course I do," he said in a husky, possessive growl. "Just come here and let me give you the best pleasure of your life." He took the last few steps that were between them and brushed the side of her face with grotesque fingers.

Creak's face split into a cruel smile, anger burning in her usually soft brown eyes. "It's a shame I'm not into pathetic man-whores like yourself."

She watched as his grey eyes became stormy with rage, that soon turned to pain as her knee slammed into his crotch. 

He crumpled to the ground and before any of his friends could comprehend what was going on, Creak ran at the wall. Jumping at the last second, she stretched for the ledge a good three feet higher than she was tall. Her fingers scraped the edge, as she held on for dear life.

As the rest of the Carson Clan charged towards her, she strained to pull herself up. Malnourishment worked against her, giving her little strength to work with.

Someone grabbed her ankle, trying to pull her back to the ground. She screamed, a cry of fear and pain, as she kicked the attacker off her leg and, using all her strength, she pulled herself up. Breathing heavily, but at least safe on her perch, Creak glanced down at the thugs below her. She only looked at the man directly below her, the smile on his face not letting her look away. Why was he smiling? He hadn't won... Creak's eyes widened as realization hit her like a crossbow bolt.

Quite literally, the bolt went straight through her shoulder and pierced out the other side of her. Shock suppressed the initial pain and fear forced her to turn to the window behind her.

Using her left arm, the one without an arrow in it, Creak dug her broken nails under the window. The pain took hold and she cried out as she lifted the window open. If it had been locked she would have been killed in that alley. Luck didn't stay with her long as she jumped through the opening, another bolt narrowly missing her head, but still grazing her brow.

Blood poured into her eyes from the cut on her head, mixing with her tears and blinding her.

She whimpered on the floor too tired to move. It was dark in the building and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen when someone found her bleeding on the floor of their home.

'I'm sorry Stans.' Creak thought as the darkness began to surround her with open arms. 'I won't be making it back before sunset.'