(WP) Galaxy’s Most Wanted

(WP) Galaxy’s Most Wanted

               She was
the most wanted fugitive across the galaxies, and she felt a sort of
bittersweet thrill run through her.

               It
seemed like merely yesterday that she had been cowering in her uncle’s inn,
forced to serve her aunt and cousins as if she were not family herself. But she
had gained the courage to leave that life of drudgery and servitude behind her.
Oh, if her wicked, awful family could see her now. They’d cower before her,
begging for mercy.

               Lucky
for them, she was not the type to hold grudges.

               And
anyway, where was the fun in life without a little risk?

               She
slunk through the city, edging toward the tavern, smirking to herself when she
saw her own image smiling merrily back at her, middle finger raised high at the
viewer in naked defiance.

                For a single moment, she was tempted to throw
caution to the winds entirely and throw her hood away from her face, revealing
her identity.

               But
even for Freya Starsinger, that was tempting fate a little too much.

               Waiting
until the reckless urge passed, she kept close to the edges of the streets,
letting the crowd carry her toward the inn.

               When
she could finally see the sign, depicting a flag with skull and crossbones on
it, she broke away from the crowd and slipped inside.

               Thankfully,
the bar was so crowded that no one so much as looked up when she walked in,
still cloaked.

               Finding
a spot at the back of the room, she sat down, the air heavy with cooking smoke
and the stench of unwashed bodies. Freya did not stay in one place for long;
even if she weren’t wanted by the corrupt government chasing her, she could not
stand being confined. It reminded her, too much, of her past.

               She had
escaped, but the scars had not yet healed.

               Her feet
and her ship could carry her as far as she liked, but she could not leave behind
her pain, or her memories.

               The
thought made her more than a little bitter.

               In
order to avoid detection, she’d cut her hair and filed her canine teeth to
points, but her armor and swords weren’t nearly as easy to conceal.

               She was
jolted from her melancholy thoughts by a serving girl appearing at her elbow.

               “Would
you care for something to eat or drink? Our inn boasts the best wine this side
of the cosmos,” She said, smiling winningly.

               She was
very pretty, and a few years older than Freya herself. She had long, strawberry
blonde hair that was piled up into a bun at the top of her head. Freckles
dotted her face like fiery red stars, all around her nose, mouth, forehead, and
cheeks. Her eyes were the bright blue of a clear Earth sky.

               “Yes,
please,” Freya said, making her voice deeper than her usual alto. “A bowl of
stew, some bread, and some of that famous wine of yours.” She set down a few
fat gold coins and slid them toward the other girl.

               She
blushed pink and took the money, thanking Freya before taking her order to the
kitchen.

               Freya
would have to set out, again, after a night of short rest.

               As
tempting as it was to let her guard down, she couldn’t afford it.

               There
were eyes everywhere, and there would be worse things waiting for her than her
aunt and uncle’s house if she were caught.

               **