Obviously she had stolen the sack of apples. Anyone who paid attention or saw her arrogantly stride by knew that she couldn't possibly been able to afford them. Even the most money-loaded citizens of New York City would have thought twice about buying Washington apples in the middle of February. A scrawny brunette, like her, in dirty clothes couldn't have approached the stand and asked amiably for the sack. If she did, the sales person would have disposed of her, knowing that she lacked the change.

Yet, the teenager didn't stress who knew of her smuggling, after all, she was far away enough from the place where she had stolen them. Though if she were to be caught, the refuge would at least provide her with shelter.

Confidently, she strutted through Manhattan under the impression that she was queen of the city. At least pretending for the moment, hiding the scars of a lonely soul.

Giving every lady a tilt of her worn out derby and the gentlemen a "How ya doin'?" or a "Lovely mornin', ain't it?" With a happy-go-lucky jolt in her usually 'licked by Life' walk, the young woman proceeded to greet any passerby with an affectionate gesture, despite the rumble in her stomach.

Like a street urchin should be, the girl was hungry. However, she refused to seat herself down to the steps of a building or a park bench. No, today she was better than the other bums in New York, all because she had a sack of apples that she, oh, so cunningly snatched.

Though she noted her cockiness, she concluded that she deserved all the self-esteem and luxury of a princess for at least one day. Before she started to drown in self-pity, she forced herself to continue pondering over her destination's result. She couldn't just waltz into a fancy French restaurant; no, those were for dames in silk dresses. She couldn't waltz into any restaurant for that matter. Why would you do that just to have a seat and to eat your own food, or food that you've lifted along your way? Where would she eat to prop her dignity from being what she really was?

Looking down at her mangy attire, she admitted that park benches and hovering near buildings were the only things that Life was going to offer to her. If you look like a bum, and if you talk like a bum, you most likely are a bum. And that's what everyone else saw, no use wishing otherwise. The girl conveyed saying a virtuous word to everyone she saw, and as her hopes withered even more she regarded the prosperous ones with a wry glance of contempt.

A feline bitten and scratched too many times by her reliable back up, and kicked and beaten by those overpowering dogs that show no mercy upon one so low and helpless. No where was she wanted, she was left with no one to trust and no dreams to conquer. With slumped shoulders and a down cast face, the girl dragged her feet to where ever they took her. Finally, and once again grumbling about being the underdog of society.

Not until a stranger yanked the sack off her shoulders did she resurface, only to become dangerously delirious. Spinning around to face the foe who so barbarously taken her sweet possession, she witnessed a lanky boy taking flight, sack in hand, lengthening the cobblestone streets in between them. A street urchin stealing from another, the girl was enraged. As a screeching witch with a spell gone wrong, the girl let out an unmelodious cry and clenched her fists until her knuckles were taunt and white. Her sweat and life had been put into acquiring the apples; she didn't hesitate to pounce on the thief.

Only in five seconds did she accumulate a burning hatred for the swindler. An urge to let the hot lava flow out from within overcame her body as she charged at the figure. A girl like her was not to be treated with indecency. One who has dealt with the turmoil of scavenging for food, a human who has faded against the hard-hearted wind, and swam in the spit of the upper class could only desire to be respected and left alone. Left alone, away from the taunting to the critical expressions, away from anything humane and feeling. The escaping gentleman was not to pester her or ruin her meal.

Like a skilled football player, the adolescent tackled the enemy, spilling the apples from the sack. Throwing punches at the gut and wherever damage could be done, darting the clumsy hands that tried to guard the face of the bandit. She would make the criminal pay until he wouldn't dare think of defrauding a lady again. However, a sudden blow from those lumbering hands knocked her over and she found herself under the sire.

Foolishly, she hadn't considered him fighting back. Was she not a countess and he an esquire? A gentleman who kissed the tender hands and leaped at a single fuss from their matron? Well, she was fussing acceptably at every punch he landed, and he was leaping worthy enough, however, she hoped he would hurdle himself off of her instead.

Thunder bellowed from above and shook like the boy's anger, thought the girl. His one blue eye was intense as it glared at her, while the other hid beneath a leather patch. His mouth grimaced in rage and his forehead wrinkled in fury. Stringy, yellow hair fell over his intent face as he pounded her abdomen.

But it didn't hurt anymore. Not with him looking so devilishly deranged...so exquisitely elegant. The beauty of her attacker astonished her and she stopped struggling. So virtuous was the sight of his gleaming, blue eye as the gray looming clouds that dropped raindrops upon them brought out his storminess. The anger in her heart and thirst for revenge washed aside, as did the clinging dirt from their faces slid away from the blessed shower.

"Stop!" She yelled, and the boy yielded at her first word. The girl had to know the prince's name. It must be something aristocratic; like Charles or Edward.

"What's your name?" She asked.

The boy looked at her in a curious manner, as if realizing he fought with an angel. Seeing that the girl was no longer battling, the boy took in the looks of his attacker.

Her brown hair was matted into an exotic ebony color, and raindrops from heaven glided off her pale face. Her lashes were long and it fell over her eyes like a shield upon the world. Concluding that he might have ruined her pretty face, the boy slumped backwards, showing a white flag and hoping she would return the gesture.

Then remembering the question he put his finger up to his eye patch. "My name's Blink."

She smiled; Blink was a lovely name. He told her they were getting wet sitting in the middle of the road, and she just nodded. Blink grabbed a few apples and pulled her up, offering to share it. The girl took it and led him to the doorsteps of a building where they would eat together.

The rest of the apples continued to lay, cold and sprinkled with water, on the cobblestone streets. Probably bruised from tumbling out of the sack. However, there were a few that were saved and had the chance to enjoy the glory of being eaten. As two thieves sat on the steps of a building which Life has offered them, they ate their meal enjoying each other's company as a gentleman and a lady.