The Music Thief

    The loud ringing echoed through the tall stone tower, abruptly waking Zara. She covered her ears with her dirt stained hands and curled up, groaning as she rocked back and forth. She could never get used to waking up to the clocktower's morning bell. The sun had just peaked over the horizon, and Zara knew she had to get ready.      It was like every other day, she grabbed the dirty linens she stole from a nearby inn and had torn up into bandages and begun to bind her large chest. She pushed her hands down on the dirty floor and let her fingers slide through the dust and dirt that had accumulated there. She then pushed her fingers through her already dirty and greasy hair, to make sure the dark black color turned mousy. She pushed her hair into a cap and took on the name 'Zane'. She sighed with discontent as she slid through the hole in the clocktower wall that was covered with a red ragged sun-bleached tapestry. Her hands slid over the torn threads from unrecognizable embroidery as she stepped out from what she called her home. It wasn't allowed for her to stay there, but it wasn't forbidden either. After all, who would want to stay in the clocktower?      She rushed down the dilapidated stone steps, watching her frayed shoes tap down each of the gray stones. Everyone in the city of Cantono knew that 'Zane' was the clock-tuner's apprentice, so she always had a reason to be there, even if she wasn't supposed to sleep there.      "Oi Zane! Yer not serpossed ter stay in that clocktower! Yer silly goose!" She recognized the clock-tuner's thick accent as he ruffled her cap and messed up the hair underneath.     "Sorry Al, you know my mom doesn't like me staying at the flower shop... and it's much easier to get the flowers she needs this way." Zara said as she lowered her voice to sound like and adolescent boy.      "Just 'cause it's easy does not mean it should be done, yeh fool!" He barked at Zara. She knew that he was only worried for her well-being, but she still felt unlucky for being caught. After all, it was not like she had much choice in the matter. "Ya know me and mi wife always have a place fer yer to stay." He said, watching Zara with sympathy.      "And you know I can't take you up on that! It wouldn't be fair to your kids." Zara shot back, trying to hold her voice down.      "Ah, Johnny and Nessa can handle it. They think O' you as a big bro anyways. When I asked em last night they could'na hide their excitemen'." Al said, shrugging.      "And you know I can't let myself take advantage of your hospitality." Zara said. She then realized she would be late, and color drained from her face. "Al, I'll see you later, I have to get flowers for my mother." Zara said, jogging in place before she got a nod and wave from Al, and she took off. Her thin shoes occasionally catching on the red brick that the roads were made of. She had to make sure to dodge the people, wagons, vendors and horses, before deciding to take the allies.      Once she finally reached the outskirts of the city, she headed towards the flower field she had found. She knew it belonged to the lord, but he was severely ill and hadn't stepped out of his mansion in years, and his wife was too preoccupied by her lovers to visit the field behind the mansion.      Zara carefully plucked all the flowers she needed, before laying low and rushing out of the field. As much as she felt comfortable 'visiting' the lord's field, it didn't mean she wanted to be caught. Zaras linen shoes were damp with dirt now, and she new she needed to make a new pair soon, as this pair was getting too rugged to serve its purpose.     She rushed to her mother's flower shop. Zara's grandfather was a farmer, and tried making his wife bear many male children to help out on the farm. When Zara's mother was born, she was given the name Emily and they pleaded for the nuns at a nearby church to take her. If she wasn't taken in by the nuns it would be no doubt that she would have been sold to a house of ill repute after being raised to a reasonable age. Zara did not want to be her mother, although she loved her, she blamed her for everything. After all, it was Emily's fault that Zara needed to hide.      Zara walked in to the ragged yet charming flower shop that her mother put so much care into, and was soon met by her mother's caring embrace. The sudden hug made Zara drop the flowers. It was no doubt that Emily, Zara's mother, was beautiful. Her dirty blonde hair fell in ringlets down her back and he skin was fair and supple despite her age. Her lips were plump and rosy and her deep emerald green eyes were charming. Zara did look like her mother, With her dark red lips and fair skin and deep green eyes. However, Zara's hair was as black as a raven, and when her hair was clean it fell in beautiful shiny black ringlets down to her waist. Zara couldn't show off her hair. Because it was forbidden for anyone except nobility and royalty to have black hair. Black was such a rare color anyways, that it was rare even among nobility. The reason it was forbidden is because there was a saying, since the very beginning of the country, that 'The darker the hair, the closer to royalty.' And that saying held true; because most commoners only had blonde or light brown hair. Nobility had light brown, red, and very rarely brown or dark brown. Royalty had dark brown or black. Children with darker hair were treasured, however Zara was a commoner; there was no doubt to that fact. As Zara's father was a commoner who hid his hair color too, but Emily never talked about this. It brought up terrible memories for her.     "Ugh! Zara you smell TERRIBLE! go take a bath at once... actually, rinse off everything in one bath, and then take a second one with soap!" Zaras mother said as she pushed her into the back room of the flower shop, where the bath resided. Zara sighed with discontent. It's not like she could do anything about how dirty she was in the long run...