Her feet pounded on the pavement, in a short staccato speed, racing through another alley. Breathing hard, she felt the familiar beads of sweat dribble down her back, and on her face, but she didn’t stop for a split second to wipe them away. She needed to keep going, to keep running, until she was safe, until she was…

“Whoa, whoa there,” an older woman with light blonde hair made her stop short, almost colliding into her, gasping as her chest heaved. She scrunched her eyes at the woman, hesitant, unsure whether she should keep running or not. She had been running for so long it seemed, she didn’t know if she could stop. The older woman gestured to her husband, whispering in a hushed worried tone, and he nodded, glancing at her.

“Harold, she’s so scrawny,and she clearly doesn’t have any family.”

“Martha, how on earth would you know?”

Martha gave him a knowing look. “Because no young girl her age, would be running like that if she didn’t have anything to hide.” Martha slowly walked over to the young girl, and calmly waved to her, gesturing to her.

“I mean no harm, but if you need a place to stay, I have more than enough room, you could come and go as you please, and you would be safe.” Martha spoke slowly and carefully to the girl, who had a determined hardness to them. The young girl looked scrawny, with a swarm of unruly brown curls encircling her face, and an untamed fire in her blue eyes. She stared Martha down, her upper lip pierced in an almost snarl, but as she looked at the open door beside her and her husband, she slightly softened. Sighing, she briefly nodded, not looking at Martha or her husband as she slowly walked into their home.

A young boy awaited her at the top of the stairs, looking at her in distaste.

“Mum, why is there a strange girl in our house? She looks...dirty,” he whined, his voice in a squeak. Martha shot him a look, and abruptly he stopped, a flush reddening his face.

“Well, Bradley, she happens to be lost. She’s a lost girl, and for now she is our lost girl. She may come and go as she pleases, until she finds her way and regains her bearing. Until then, you will treat her with respect. I want no nonsense out of you, understood?” Bradley nodded curtly, and looked at her.

“What’s your name then, lost girl?” Martha asked.

“Skylar,” she said softly,“Skylar Marie.” She decided not to give her last name, because more than anything she wanted to forget where she came from. She was fine simply as a lost girl.