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The cold wind swirled around me, making tears sting my eyes.  My fingers were numb as I climbed the jagged castle wall.  My hands and feet moved easily despite the slickness from the falling snow, they had made this climb many times before.  The top was in sight, just a few more heaves up.  I stood, taking in the sight that many would never have the pleasure to see. 

The castle was a magnificent sight in the darkness of the night.  Rooms lit up, making the castle warm and inviting.  Sounds of laughter carried its way to me along with the smell of a feast.  My mouth watered and I closed my eyes, envisioning such a feast, a feast made for kings and queens.  A feast that could feed hundreds of people.  My dreams of the feast evaporated. Those people would never see a feast like that, no one had the money for it. Instead, they farmed pathetic crops that they called food during the warmer months, and they were lucky if they survived the harsh winters.  I clenched my jaw and pulled out the coil of rope that hid under my thin rags that were called clothes, my feet bare, used to the abuse I put them through, covered in calluses.   

Swinging the rope, I threw it at the castle, the hook clinging to the gash I had created above the third story window.  I gave the rope a rough tug, making sure it was secure. Then I flew through the air, to the open window of Lady Isabel's bed chamber.  As I landed I rolled, a move I had perfected years ago.  I crouched after my momentum was gone, still as a rock. No one reacted. The coast was clear. 

Gathering my rope off the window, I thrust it back under my garments, then began my walk down to the kitchens.  I knew the castle like the back of my hand, probably better than the residents of it, they didn’t appreciate the thick curtains around the tall, clear, glass windows. nor the plush carpet under my sore feet, sinking with each passing step.  I had memorized the guards routine and where their blind spots were.  Where I wouldn’t be caught walking freely around the castle, as if i were just another noble woman. 

Clinking of silverware against plates started to find my ears, I was very close now. I turned down a simple hallway with many sculptures, vases, and decoration.  I smiled. Things I could break.  I decided on a flower vase, one that looked like it cost more than five gold disks.  picking it up, I threw it against the wall, the ceramic breaking into small pieces that flew this way and that. 

“What was that?”  A woman's voice asked.

“You two!” a gruff male voice shouted, “Go see what that noise was.”  

Two voices echoed agreement, followed immediately by pounding of boots.  I slipped out of the hallway and into a servant’s closet as the guards were distracted with my mess.  Quickly I changed out of my clothes and into the uniform of a scullery maid, then headed to the kitchen. 

Warm air hit me as I walked in, thawing my cold body.  “Who gave Lady Elizabeth scallops?”  I demanded to the staff.  They all turned toward me, their busy work stopping for an instant.

“Well?”  I said again, praying that someone screwed up.  

“I-I did.” A tall, thin boy admitted. His stringy blonde hair falling around his face. 

I gave him my best glare. “You did so knowing of her allergy?”  

The boy’s face fell, terror entered his pale blue eyes. “I didn’t know.”   

“You stupid boy!” Bellowed the head chef.  “What have you done?! Everyone out now! We need to apologize to her ladyship.” They all scuttled out, fear in their eyes. 

Empty the kitchen. 

Check.  

I quickly whipped out my sac and began shoving as much food as I could into it.  The sounds of the kitchen staff grew closer, my time was up. Opening a door to a servant’s hall I slipped out of the stuffy kitchen as the staff walked back in.  The corridor was made of wood, no ornate wall covers or carpet for the servants.  After walking up rickety stair cases and through many more halls, I found myself back in Lady Isabel's chamber. Going out the way I came, I began my trek back down to the ground from the thirty-two foot wall that protect the precious castle from us. And us from them.  I constantly heard little girls in my village dreaming that they were princesses up in the castle, going to balls and dressing up.  Even falling in love with a prince.  If they only knew what kind of wretched people lived inside.  Beautiful walls to hide hideous people. 

`The man we called a king just raised taxes because he could, throwing people out of their homes if they couldn’t meet the high price of the king.  I knew what it was like, I was three when my family got evicted. The memory crystal clear in my mind.  Blazing hot was the day, the sun high in the sky.  My parents jumped at every sound they heard, being a child thought it hilarious, and would bang my hands on the table when they turned away.  Maria, my elder sister told me to stop, infuriated by her opposing my fun game I would pound louder, but there was one pounding that did not come from my hands.  It came from the pounding of the king’s men on our front door.  Father tried to reason with them, tried to let us have more time to get the money, but they wouldn't accept.  The men swarmed in overturning furniture while my sister and I screamed.  I ran to my mother, clinging to her leg. She would protect me. Protect us.  We were then shoved out of our home, the town people slowly gathering to watch.  

Even though we had nothing, my father fought. A fight started, my father knocking out two guards before they brought him down and drove an ornate, shiny sword, a sword that should be on display instead of slicing through my father's body. I can still hear the broken cry from my mother as the light left my father’s moss green eyes.  She cried over his body for hours, Maria and I watching, clinging to one another. Tears fell from her eyes, but mine stayed dry.  I welcomed the pain, let it burrow deep within me.  The next day we buried him, each saying words about how he was a good father, a good husband. 

Poor and without shelter my family found ourselves on the streets.  Mom decided to become a mumper, crying about how her two young daughters were starving and ill.  Some People would stop by her, mayhap give her a silver coin, sometimes bread or other items of food.  When she would come back to where we were calling home for a day, the food went to us.  We insisted that she have some, but she refused, claiming that we needed it more. About a year of this and mothers body finally gave up. Maria and I found her laying on the street, people walking over her.  Not bating an eye toward the corps that lay before them.  Dragging our late mother out of the streets and into a close ally, we mourned her.  Each of us crying and clutching her cold body. We didn’t bury her, just left her in that ally to rot.  Maria decided to move to a different town, so that’s what we did.  The next town over was much closer to the castle, with its walls looming over the village. It was much more poverty sicken even though it shared land with the king. 

My sister tried to find work, going up to every seamstress, bakery, school, or other establishment.  They all had the same answer. No.  Two months came and went, we were still on the streets, starving and shivering in the cold.  My Feet would bleed, as would my hands from the dryness of winter.  After one day, my sister came back to our little hut with new socks for me. 

“But where did you get the money?” I had asked. 

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”  

Life went on like this, each day Maria would have a little food for me, a present at times, but there would always be a haunted look in her eyes.  When I asked to join her at her job she refused instantly.  We fought over the matter, her saying I was too young to do any work and me screaming that eight wasn’t young.  Nothing was said for the rest of the night.  On the next day, when she left for work around four in the evening, I followed her through the town.  She headed into a saloon.  I didn’t enter the building until after the sun had been down for hours.  Drunken men came and went throughout the night.  Only when it began to get cold I went in. Inside I went unnoticed. It was easy for a small girl to hide under a table or two.  I caught a glimpse of Maria through a door, heading upstairs. Once she was out of sight I made my way through the crowd, following where I had seen her.  

Up the set of wooden stairs was a long narrow hallway with doors on both sides.  She must be in one of the rooms, so I decided to go through all of them.  When I reached the third door, I opened it and found where my sister had been.  I screamed and ran out of the tavern as quickly as my short legs would carry me.  I heard my name being called, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head, the sounds echoed in my ears.  

Tears streaked down my face. I ran until I met the castle wall.  I looked up, it towering over me.  Full of anger from what the king had done to my family I flung my closed fists at the wall, cursing the merciless king.  We suffered while he lay in his warm bed with food in his belly.  His family well and alive.  His family never having to know hardships, he never to have discover his sister a w***e.  I punched the wall until my knuckles split open, crimson red dripping.  I screamed until my voice was worn, I cried until there was nothing left.  There was nothing left but a hollow shell of a girl.  A girl who used to know family and kindness.  A girl who had hope.  

I passed out slouched against the horrid wall. Waking the next day with determination set inside me.  The king would take nothing else from me.  I would take away his belongings, for he wouldn’t miss them.  I began to climb the wall, higher and higher I went, until I reached the top and saw the castle for the first time.  That night I returned to our little shack surprised to see my sister still there.  

“I thought you would be gone by now.” I croaked. 

“Let me explain-“

“No.” I said, clenching my jaw with anger. “I got enough explanation last night sister.” 

Her sobs began “I am so sorry Christiana, please forgive me. I couldn’t let you starve and leave me like mother, nor could I do that to you.  This was the only way.”  

In response I dropped my sac. It overflowing with fresh food and warm blankets I had stolen.  From who I didn’t care, all I knew was that it was the kings and probably paid for from the money he stole from us.  

My sisters eyes widened in awe, mouth dropping.  Once she got over her amazement of the treasure I had brought she asked, “Where? You don’t have the money.” 

I picked up the bag, tossing it into my corner of the shack. “You don’t get to ask how I make my money.”

Her stormy blue eyes became troubled. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No.” My back straightened in pride. “I wouldn’t stoop as low as you.”  Then I pivoted and laid down, sleep came easily to my exhausted body.  The next day we ate the food, or bellies full for the first time in years. Maria never again asked where I got the food and clothes.  She just accepted it and if she had ever found out she kept it to herself. 

Now at seventeen I helped not only my sister, but the other homeless as well. When I saw people get their house taken from them I would bring them to our makeshift hut we built out of straw and cow manure.  Feeding them brought a joy to me I never knew I could feel.  Helping others, especially when it was a family with small children.  My childhood may have sucked, but I could mayhap make theirs better than mine by being a friend.  

I walked down the empty streets, the snow glistening in the lamp light.  Flakes fell to rest on my eyelashes and hair, making them look as if they become part of my as they sink into my silver hair.  Smiling at the snow falling freely from the heavens I allowed myself to feel a little joy.  Sure winters around this part of the world were brutal and unforgiving, but it was damn pretty. Almost magical.  I had always loved the snow, playing in it well after my fingers became numb.  Maria always scolded me, saying that if I kept it up, frostbite would take each of my fingers.  I ignored her every time. Snow was something that brought me joy, and she wouldn’t take that from me, but I eventually obeyed her. I began to stop playing in the cold flakes.  The last thing I wanted was to cause my sister more worry, or to have a healer come to take off black fingers. Healers cost money.  A lot of money, and we wouldn’t be able to afford the treatment. 

Turning the corner, I found my sister already asleep.  She shivered in the cold despite the thick blanket wrapped around her.  Making a note to get more blankets from the castle, I placed a loaf of bread next to her head.  She would enjoy that when she woke up. Snuggling down in my own bed of blankets, sleep wrapped his arms around my small frame and into a land of endless possibilities.