She had seen some of the beggar women with blouses on over their dresses and tied at the waist with flimsy belts. Farayne had found a blouse that would work perfectly. She had also found a length of tattered velvet ribbon that she tied around the blouse.
She had gazed admiringly at herself in the ancient, oval mirror that had once belonged to her great, great, grandmother. She looked just like the beggars that had come so many times to her home. She had even found the cape she was wearing in the trunk. It was threadbare and worn in many places. She had run a piece of thin rope through the hood to be able to tie it around her face. She was very proud of herself.
She was desperate to see how those less fortunate than her lived. How had they come to be so poor? Were they born poor? Did they squander their wealth? Did bad luck pay them an extended visit? She would find out.
She knew she was going to someplace forbidden, someplace a lady of her social standing didn�t dare go, but she was. She stood at the edge of town. It was deserted except for a light in the distance. Most of the lanterns had burned out, but the moon helped light her path.
The shops were closed and fog had rolled in. The town was peaceful, although this section of town was desolate. No one of her breeding would dare come to the Rynd District. It was an area of taverns and brothels, where thugs, dregs and women of ill repute carried on their despicable ways of life. Murders were as common in this area, as teatime was in her world.
She was closer to the light now. It was a pub, The Dancing Dragon Pub. People were walking in and out, music was playing, and it was loud. This would be perfect. She pulled her hood more tightly around her face and went inside.
Farayne trembled with excitement as she hurried to the Dancing Dragon Pub. Every night for the past month she had been going there. She had even tried begging for money to buy the rough ale the people drank. Most of the time she was refused. A woman that thought Farayne was competing for her �business� had even thrown her out onto the street one night. Bruised and sore she had trudged the long trip home, but returned the next night.
Unbeknownst to her, she had been watched every night, watched by people who had dark designs on her. This night they would make their move.
The tavern was closing and Farayne slipped silently away.
�Oy! �Aven�t you been comin� �ere every night? Why er you comin� �ere? You don� belong �ere pre�y miss!�
The man was grotesque. His teeth were missing, his hair was dirty, and he stank. He disgusted her. She backed away. She backed into another man. When she turned around, the man she had backed into was as horrible as the first one. He had an eye patch and his breath nearly made her vomit. She realized as a wave of panic set in that she was surrounded. The men gazed at her as one would a jewel thrown carelessly out onto the street.
One of the men, she didn�t see which one because it happened so fast, grabbed her. The wind was knocked out of her as she was slammed onto the cold ground. She felt her heavy cotton tights ripped from her legs and her ragged petticoat torn away. The man was kissing her and she tried desperately to block him, but he held her tiny wrists in one of his huge hands. She felt him rip her underwear from her and his grubby fingers slide into her. She cried out in pain as he jammed them repeatedly, deeply into her.
Suddenly he fell off her, or more accurately flew off her. She coughed and sputtered as she regained her breath. He had been laying on her. The rest of the men had already run away. She saw him pull his pants up and run away. It wasn�t until then did she realize how close she had come to being savaged by the brute.
She stood on wobbly legs and then she saw him, a shadow, dash into the forest. She tried to follow him but he had disappeared. She didn�t know who he was but she owed him her life, her virtue if nothing else, and she vowed she would find him and thank him