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She walked quietly through the narrow sewer tunnel as she carefully avoided piles of trash and puddles of waste. Today she had managed to gather a number of interesting trinkets that would fetch a nice price from the Guild master. Yes, she had earned a good night sleep and the chance to be dry and warm again.

Suddenly she heard a soft scraping noise and she immediately crouched low and froze. She listened hard and strained to see in the darkness. Again she heard the noise in front of her, more soft this time, but closer. Her hands moved silently to her daggers. Her sharp eyes picked out a shape in the shadows and she knew it was a man. Whoever he was, he was trying not to be seen. Anyone who was not a thief would have passed by him and not noticed. She waited. The shape moved forward again but made no further sounds. He paused then as if sensing her presence and knowing who she was, he stepped into the light and looked in her direction. It was the Guild master, Garrett. His white hair hung limply about his thin, worry-lined face. He looked like hell.

"Come out, little-one," he whispered, using her nickname.

She stood up straight and quickly went over to him. They walked a short distance to a darkened corner and crouched behind a pile of garbage.

"Why aren't you at the Guild?" she whispered.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "There is no more Guild," he stated flatly.

"What?!" she exclaimed, her voice climbing an octave. Garrett gave her a harsh look of warning to not speak so loudly. "Sorry," she whispered meekly. "What happened?"

"Our new members decided to take over. Apparently they didn't like the way I handled things and so they had a little revolution," he replied in a bitter tone. "Many of our friends are dead, but some of us managed to get away. We are going to regroup at our warehouse in the Docks District. Heh, lucky for us the newbies didn't wait long enough to learn all our secrets. I'm going to stay around here and wait for those who have not heard the news. You should get to the warehouse as soon as possible. We need to assess the damage and plan a course of action. Now go," he whispered.

She wanted to protest but he silenced her with another look. She obeyed and started sneaking back the way she had come in. She silently raged inside, her mind in chaos. How could this have happened?! Who did those fools think they were?! How dare they destroy her Guild! How dare they kill her friends! She wanted vengeance. She wanted blood. She wanted those scum-sucking berks dead.

She made her way quickly to the surface and ran through the city to the Docks District. She made very good time and reached the warehouse in less than half of an hour. She entered quickly and looked for her fellow thieves. She was shocked by how few there were. Only four of the eighteen original Guild members who had remained, had managed to escape.

"Marcus," she called to the short heavily-bearded thief. "Where is everyone?"

"Dead most likely. I'm sorry lass, but I think we might be all that's left. Justin and Kit were still out plying the trade when them bastards decided to attack, so they might be okay. But that's it," he said as he frowned and scratched at his dirty bearded chin. His leathery face looked worried and coldly angry.

"Aye, tis the right truth of the matter. Everything has gone to Hell," commented Jagger in an angry voice. He stood to his full giant height and crossed his burly arms. A fresh bandage covered his left forearm and one covered the side of his face. She could see the blood was starting to soak through. He paced angrily around the room. "We must do something. They need to pay dearly for this traitorous act."

"And we will do something, but not yet. We should think it through first instead of rushing off into a fight. Now sit down and rest so your wounds can heal, ya big dumb ox," replied Rory in a commanding tone. "I didn't patch you up so you could just open your wounds again and bleed to death." Jagger scowled, but complied.

Chase, the youngest of their group, walked over to her and pointed to a corner with his thin arm. "You'll want to rest over there, it's pretty quiet and you'll be downwind of Jagger," he smiled thinly as he whispered the last part.

"Thanks, Chase," she said as she mussed the young boy's dirty brown hair. "I could use some rest." She walked over to the corner, laid down on some old blankets and went to sleep.

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