She heard movement among the trash cans behind her, now, and glanced over her shoulder to see two more beggars, rising from a stack of loose cartons.

They circled her, drooling as their eyes flitted from her, to her pack, back to her.

What can we do with the bag? she could hear them thinking. Does it have something to eat? And what can we do with the girl? She looks so sweet, and it’s been so long.

This was bad. A month ago, the girl never would have dared to go through here alone. But a month ago, she had her brother to protect her. And when the army rolled in, with their new equipment, the smiling faces on the soldiers in their clean uniforms, she believed their leader.

“We are not here to invade,” he said. “We are not here to conquer. We are here to protect you.”

Her brother scoffed, “The faces are different, but the story’s the same.”

Now he was dead. And so would she be, sooner than she planned, if she didn’t do something. As the beggars closed in, she screwed up her courage and-