if the stars align {crossbowe}

In the dying light she’d stifled her gasp, numb fingers fumbling over the young girls shirt as she reached for her neck. The sun had just hit the horizon and faint, pale rays stretched across the sky, greedy fingers that sucked the warmth out of the world. It was going to be another terrifying night, huddled in an alleyway, trying to find something to bring back to the other kids. She refused to return without any food, it had been four days of wandering aimlessly and her feet ached. A biting pain that was far worse then the sting of the cold against her bare skin. She feared the morning when she’d wake up and the numbness to her limbs was replaced with that sickly blackness that spelled the end to her toes and fingers, or worse, the morning when she just didn't wake up.

Patches of black danced against the heaped figure before her, her heart clung pitifully to some small sense of hope, her head echoing a cry of despair, knowing what the signs meant. Even though the chilled skin beneath her fingers told her exactly what she feared she still searched, hoping that this next failure wouldn’t add onto her already shit day. But as her shaking hands found no pulse, she pushed herself backwards, blue eyes turning down towards her hands in defeat. The dead girl before her couldn’t be older then six, but beneath those tattered clothes she could see the signs of starvation, a story etched into her own body.

The world had turned grey by the time she rose unsteadily to her shaking feet. With the last trace of the sun vanishing the world was driven into that cold despair. To Celeana, the night was her enemy, the streets were filled with more danger, the days when she had first begun living on the streets were a hazy memory of mean calling for her, of strong, filthy hands reaching for her legs and arms. Bills being waved in front of her face, hands attached to sly smiles that promised suffering for her time.

As much as she wanted to protect and help the children that were in the exact same situation she couldn’t give herself up. The few times she’d been tempted she’d stopped herself at the last second, even within the clutches of starvation she couldn’t taint her soul, she couldn’t give up every part of herself. The saddest part was that not even those cruel smiles and cunning eyes had been enough to deter her. If the remnants of her pride hadn’t been snagged by the few remaining threads of sanity within her mind, she’d have given herself over to those needs.

It had been four days since she’d found food, and the hollow ache in her stomach was nothing compared to the mere thought of what the children would be going through. Stumbling through the streets she pushed herself onwards, fingers scraping against the stone walls as her eyes searched frantically for something to bring back with her. She would not return empty handed, and that was why she hadn’t gone back in four days.

"Hey, kid!”

The shout echoed through the street and she halted, veins turning to ice as the voice danced through the night air. Tense shoulders relaxed as the voice continued, obviously not directed at her. It was hard not to take shouts and yelling harshly, knowing that any moment one of them could be directed at you, quickly followed by the agony of a Peacekeeper’s whip. Not wanting to be noticed Celaena turned, sinking into the shadows, better to remain unnoti-

"Want to earn a few extra bucks?”

The words struck a chord and she hesitated only a moment before she spun, slinking forwards until she was at the edge of the street. Money could get those kids food, it could get them something warm. The very thought of seeing those dull eyes shine as she handed them a new blanket or a warm meal was enough to clear her foggy mind, to shake off the fear that had leadened her veins. Peering around the corner she spotted three things: A street rat, a boy around her age dressed in very expensive clothes and a lot of money. Stiffing her gasp at the site she watched, as the boy dressed in the warm clothes handed half of it to the street rat. It wasn’t until the street rat turned and disappeared into the next street that she realised she hadn’t heard what the rich boy had told him to do.

It didn’t matter, though, she was in desperate need of money, and she’d do anything for it. With a deep breathe, to steady her rapid heart beat, she stepped out into the street. A biting breeze slipped past and she shuddered, but as she headed over to the boy with the fancy clothes she wiped away all thoughts of her own aching bones, and hollow stomach, eyes shining with determination, wanting, desperately wanting to be able to return and give them a proper meal.

As she moved closer the figure took on a familiar look, bright orange hair dancing upon his head, like a flame. For a moment she caught herself staring, eyes widening as she recognised him, fleeting memories of stolen glances within those bustling halls. Before she’d left her father she’d gone to the same school as this boy, her heart tightened and her lips parted, but she choked on her next words, suddenly unsure. It didn’t matter, though, Aeric Sylabowe was already shaking his head, the lie falling from his lips, as easy to let go as money, it seemed; it was a stinging cut.

It’s his next words that hit her like a blow, though. Fight? That’s what he’d given that other guy the money for. She had career training, a few years of it where she’d played with a few weapons, if only to try and ease her father’s heart ache, hoping that if she could become some kind of champion he’d stop blaming her for her mums death. That plan had died as quickly as it had happened, but still, she could throw a punch, especially for money. She folded her arms over her chest, face taking on a stubborn set. Her blue eyes burned with a fire that matched his hair, “no, I won’t. I’ll have you know, I do know how to fight.” She could lie, especially when she was determined to get what she wanted. Narrowing her eyes, she planted herself directly in front of him. “I’ve killed someone before.” She said, averting her gaze for a brief moment, the fire flickering as she caught herself.

Squaring her shoulders she drew in a quick breathe, shaking off those dreaded moments, they wouldn't help persuade him to hand over the cash. "Even so, test me, if you don't believe me, I'll punch you in your smug face right now." She hoped the words hurt him, because they'd been tough enough to say, she wasn't one for cruel taunts and jests, perhaps that was where he got the idea that she couldn't fight from. She'd have to prove him wrong.

She knew how she must look to him, her eyes, just like those of some wild, untamed beast, fighting for survival. She knew that look so well, her mother had possessed that hunger and want in her gaze in those last few weeks, and even though the fire within her mothers eyes had died Celaena's still burned onwards. But hers was different, this flame wasn't for her, this desperation and depravity was for them. It was an unbreakable promise she had made to keep them alive above herself, and even if in the end she broke an arm, a leg or a few ribs but got enough money from it to keep them alive for another week or so, it'd be worth it.

The mark she left behind for them would help them get stronger, give them reason to continue going and her own suffering would end. Death wasn't the worse thing in the world, she knew about half a dozen other moments of suffering that beat death in an instant. Her bones, her blood, her body, what did it matter, what did it honestly matter if she could keep them all alive for a few more days. This was her mark against the world, her fingers splattered in blood, her name carved into the dirt with those crimson drops. Celaena might not be an adept career with a life of training behind them, but she was a survivor and she knew how to live, she'd show him that she knew, that she could do this, because it was all she had left to believe in. Even if she wasn't sure she had to force herself to believe it, otherwise she'd was better to run like a coward right now.

Time was ticking, a reapers scythe against the clock, and this was her final gamble, there was nothing left in those streets, and Ripred knew how many bodies she'd be stumbling across if she waited another day. A bet with her life on the line wasn't much when you were a street rat, every meal was a bet, a gamble as to whether or not it'd be the last. This one just required more blood, it wasn't like she hadn't been in a fight before. She didn't like hurting people, and more often then not when she threw that punch to get that food for the kids she took the injured one in, giving her share to them. It was any wonder she was still alive.

Her tense stance did not ease, in fact she opened her mouth just as he began to speak, ready to fire another series of comments if he denied her. Instead, to her surprise, he folded, a grudging response agreeing to let her participate. Her blue eyes widened and she gasped, not entirely with him as he stepped past her, moving to lead the way to the rings. It took her a moment to gather her wits before she turned to follow, but he hesitated, and Celaena narrowed her eyes, arms tightening, ready to defend herself once more. What happened next was more shocking then the day her father struck her after her mother relapsed, the sting to her cheek an echoing phantom that pushed her past the ghost of her old house every time she tried to return. At first she flinched at the movement, expecting some kind of attack, a punishment for the way she'd spoken to him, and she raised her hands in a defensive position, turning her head away, as if trying to protect it.

"Please-" The word slipped past her lips, the rest of the sentence disappearing as warmth enveloped her, for a brief moment her aching body stung from the sudden change, and she blinked rapidly, confusing dancing across her face. Turning her stunned gaze to the figure that moved ahead of her she took an uneasy step forwards.

Almost slipping to catch up she jogged through the cold to reach his side, part of her wanting to throw the coat off and give it back. He looked cold, evident by the way he clasped his hands in front of him, blowing air into them. It didn't help, it only eased your blue skin for a few moments, in the end it only made the suffering increase -you had to rub your hands, not blow on them, that was the secret. But a selfish desire to remain inside that warmth gripped her heart, and she guiltily listened, unable to respond as he knocked on the door. However, not even the warmth of the jacket could surpass the shiver that slipped down her spine as the jeers, and sounds reached her ears.

“I can get you a fight with someone a little more high stakes. More money.”

She swallowed stiffly, "sounds easy enough." Taking a deep breathe she closed her eyes, before opening them and giving Aeric her best winning smile. He wouldn't see her fear, he wouldn't see the shake in her hands, she could do this. Celaena was strong, she was a survivor, and this was nothing. As she stepped through the door, she tugged the coat off, giving it back to him, stretching her arms up above her head she yawned, "when does the next fight start?" It was easier to look anywhere but at him, it was harder to try and avoid looking at the roaring crowds, the stinging smell of blood and sweat on her nose. The cheering dropped for a moment, quickly followed by a sickening thud, where the crowd responded with a roar that had her shrinking back and against the wall. For a moment her fear got the best of her and she glanced at Aeric, hands clenched in tight fists by her sides. "Is he dead?" She asked, she didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.