Free Rumpel's Prize by Marie Hall

her? Why had he sent her here? Was this part of the game?
    The girl sighed. “You’re nuts, ain’t ya, lady? Escape from the loony bin or what?” Her hard eyes glared at Shayera.
    “What? No,” she snapped. “Where am I?”
    The girl’s eyes grew wide and then she planted her hands on her hips. “You running from somethin’? How could you not know where you’re at? Look around, isn’t it obvious?” A dirty finger pointed at a spot over Shayera’s shoulder.
    Twisting, she followed the girl’s gesture and spotted a giant green figure—statue more likely—perched on a massive island in the middle of the murky, bluish-gray water. Racking her brain for the niggling worm of a memory, she knew she’d seen that statue somewhere before. In one of Mother’s picture books, but where? From what?
    “New York, lady! Damn, you really is nuts. Look, sorry I ever bothered you.”
    The girl turned to go and Shayera couldn’t just let her walk away, this was the first human contact she’d had that was somewhat helpful. “No, wait!” She held out a hand. “Please, I’ve got nowhere to go. I don’t know how to get back to where I’m from. I need…” Feeling a sense of disgust at her current predicament, she thinned her lips. Was she really going to beg a child for help? One who’d just admitted that her mother was off somewhere, doing Goddess knew what, and here she was begging for money so that she could feed them?
    She couldn’t throw herself on the girl, but she did need help.
    “Police!” She smiled, so thankful her mother had taken the time to teach her of this land’s strange customs. “Take me to the police and then I promise I will leave you alone.”
    The little girl narrowed her eyes. “Why you wanna go to the police? They’ll just throw you back in the loony bin.”
    “I swear, I’m not escaped from an asylum.” At least that’s what Shayera thought the girl meant by loony bin. “But I’m lost and have no cash,” she said, hoping she was using the correct wording.
    The little girl seemed to consider it for a bit before finally nodding. “Yeah, okay. Just to the po-po, after that you’re on your own.”
    A sense of relief like she’d not felt since arriving here washed through her and Shayera beamed. “Thank you.”
    “Whatever. C’mon.” The girl turned and walked toward the smarmy-looking Paco.
    Shayera nibbled on the corner of her lip because she had the terrible sense that she should not for any reason trust this Paco character, but knowing she was literally at their mercy, she followed.
    Up close Paco was even more off-putting than he’d been from her earlier vantage point. Covered in pockmarks, his burnished bronze skin gleamed with sweat. His stench was carried to her on the stiff, briny breeze and it was all Shayera could do not to gag at the odor of his unwashed body.
    “Who are you?” he asked in a thick Spanish accent.
    Opening her mouth, Shayera meant to answer, but the girl interjected. “She’s mine, that’s what she is. We ain’t filching off her—she ain’t got nuthin’ no ways. We’re taking her to the pigs. You got a problem with that?” She shoved her finger into the boy’s bird chest.
    Rubbing at the sore spot, he glowered but shook his head.
    In that one exchange Shayera realized she’d been lied to. Paco was most definitely not the one in charge.
    “What is your name anyway, lady?” The girl turned.
    “Shayera,” she said, wiping her palm across her dress once more.
    “I’m Brenna,” the girl said, and then before Shayera could move away, she grabbed hold of her hand. Bracing for the transference of power, Shayera’s entire body stiffened up. Brenna clearly noticed because her gaze widened. “Don’t like to be touched, yeah? That’s fine, I get it.” She dropped Shayera’s hand but didn’t act in any way like the touch had affected her.
    Curling her fingers to her furiously beating heart, it dawned on Shayera that mother had mentioned