So I glide along the streets of some city I did not bother to learn the name of, searching for the girl. I have been at this for two weeks now and have had no luck. I have chosen cities randomly, but as I silently flew over this particular town, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach.

This is it.

I glance at the beggars once more and one of them sees me. This never happens. She raises her grimy head and looks directly at me. I freeze. Dammit. There is something about her that keeps my dark eyes staring intently into her icy blue ones. She gets up and I feel sick. This is not supposed to happen. This does not happen. I tear my eyes away and try to move away from her but she follows.

I close my eyes and concentrate on being dark, unnoticeable; a shadow. As I am about to melt into the night, she grabs my arm. Her hand is cold, like mine.

“Why are you here?” she rasps, as though she doesn’t use her voice much. She coughs and holds my arm tighter. I must not speak to her. I must not look at her. I am only to find the Seeker.

She holds me in this same position for a long time. I can tell she is trying to determine if I am real or if she is hallucinating. Her mouth opens once more and struggles to form the same sentence.

“Why are you here?” her voice is so small. The other beggars do not even look up. For some reason, I am filled with anger at the sight of this. Do they not care about her? She is no more than a teenager. Seventeen at the oldest. How dare these old, filthy men just sit while she walks down a dark road in a bad neighborhood!

I slip up and open my mouth, making a small sound. She gasps. What am I doing? I must not speak to her!

“I’m not afraid,” I am so caught up in my own thoughts that I barely hear her. When I process what she says, I cannot help myself anymore. I turn to face her and I am shocked. She is beautiful. Her face is pale and sprinkled with freckles and her lips are thin. Her hair is dirty and scraggly, but I can tell it is a light orange color. She is… delicate, I think.

“You should be,” I whisper and she jumps. I do not know what makes me say this. I am not to speak to mortals, only to find the queen.

Then she shocks me. She lets go of my arm and does not run away. She simply stares at me.

“Who are you?” she asks, this time her voice less shaky and more assertive. Maybe delicate is not the right word… I decide I like this girl.

“What is your name, child?” I ask, my voice like silk in an attempt to get her to trust me. It does not work.

“Don’t try to seduce me. It won’t work. I’ve lived in this city for too long. Who are you?” she is very persistent. Alright, I will play her games.

“Why should I tell you who I am when I do not even know your name? Please tell me,” I give her a smile and she has no idea how rare this is.
She thinks for a moment and then looks straight into my eyes. “It’s Annalise. I want to know yours. Please,” she whispers the last word. I just stare at her. For some reason, I want to trust her. I want to know her. If only I had a name.

I run the options back and forth in my mind, trying to decide which is the best one for my situation.

“I—I don’t know my name. I cannot remember it.” I say. Telling the truth will save me from problems later. But I don’t think she believes me. Her eyes betray her. She is hurt. Why? I do not know this Annalise, so why does she seem upset?

“Why are you lying? Everyone has a name. Even you,” her tone is accusing. I try and try to remember my name, but it was lost when I became a Shadow. But I do remember the name of my little brother. He died from Scarlett Fever when he was three months old. His name was Thomas. I decide to adopt his name. I tell her this and she frowns.

“Why did you lie to me before? I wouldn’t have done anything to you. You are a lot bigger than me and I couldn’t have done anything,” she is confused now. I don’t know what to do.

“Girl, ah, Annalise,” I say to her. “You do not want to get in my life. You do not want to know me, and you definitely do not want to remember this encounter. Forget it ever happened and go back to your life,”

“Don’t you understand?” she laughs. “My life is pathetic. I’m a beggar. My father is blind and I can barely afford to keep us both alive. You are the most exciting thing to happen to me since my life was destroyed,” her eyes actually sparkle. I am beginning to like this girl. She is interesting.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says. “You take a walk with me and we talk. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, and neither do I. We just walk and talk,” she looks at me and waits for my response. For some strange reason, that sounds like a good time. A small voice drifts into my head. 'Twelve days' it reminds me. I push it to the side and take Annalise’s hand. A Shadow deserves some happiness after all…

She shows me a park that she says she used to go to with her mother on sunny days. We talk about everything under the sun, I carefully avoiding the past and she avoiding how she became a beggar. I learn she is seventeen, as I thought, and she learns I am twenty. Well, I have been twenty for some time now, but she does not need to know that. At first I am not used to responding to Thomas, but I learn quickly, as we Shadows do.

“Thomas,” she sighs. “How is it someone as amazing as you popped into my life?” she looks up at me and sees my shocked face. Amazing is a word that has never been used to describe me. I do not let people in close enough for them to know me.

“I am not amazing,” I tell her and her smile falters.

“Whoever gave you that idea must not have taken the time to talk to you,”
she puts her hand on my chest and I am surprised she does not draw back from how cold it is, even through my shirt. This is when I realize that her hand is as cold, if not colder than me. It is December and she wears rags as clothes, her feet are wrapped with bandages and they are bloody, her lips almost blue, but she should not be as cold as me. I am a twisted soul built of darkness and sorrow, forgotten memories and regret. She is a young mortal girl built of potential and hope, beauty and kindness. She should not be as cold as me.

“Annalise,” I murmur. “What is your story?” she pulls back her hand just the smallest fraction of an inch, but then quickly recovers.

“We weren’t going to talk about things we didn’t want to, remember?” she says in a voice so small even I have to strain to hear it. This girl is complex. I guide her to a bench and we sit. The poor girl is freezing. I wrap my arms around her and draw her close to me. She seems to melt into my embrace. I take off my coat and wrap it around her. She lays down in my lap and I make myself stay perfectly still. I stroke her hair and whisper the lyrics of an old folk song I knew when I was a child.

Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
Will I ever see thee wed?
‘I will marry at thy will’
Sire, at thy will

Ding dong, ding dong,
Wedding bells on an April morn
Carve thy name on a moss-covered stone,
On a Moss-covered stone

Lay low, nobody home,
Meat, nor drink, nor money have I none.
Still we will be very merry
Lay, lay low

Ding dong, ding dong,
Funeral bells on a November morn
Rose, my Rose is dead and gone,
Is dead and gone.

By the time I get to the last line, Annalise’s breathing has slowed and she is asleep. I am… overwhelmed by how at peace I am. If I could capture this moment and live it forever, I would. Annalise is not how I remember most mortals to be. Nor is she one of the few who is satisfied with life. I am confused. I have always thought that mortals fit into those two categories. Horrid and selfish, or selfless and content. Annalise baffles me. She is somewhere between the two and I want to find out her story. I want to stay here with her forever.

I want to tell her who I am and take her with me.