# Prologue: The Girl Who Ran
**FADE IN:**
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The narrow alleyway exploded with motion.
A small figure—barely more than a shadow—*slid* under a market stall, scattering clay pots that shattered against cobblestone. The girl's bare feet found purchase on wet stone as she *ran*, her ragged dress whipping behind her like a torn flag.
Behind her, two massive shapes thundered through the marketplace, overturning crates, shouldering past vendors.
She *jumped*—cat-like, impossibly agile—catching the lip of a low wall and vaulting over it in one fluid motion. Her dark hair flew wild around her face.
**CLOSE ON:** Her eyes. Wide. Terrified. Determined.
The men crashed through where she'd been seconds before. One stumbled, cursing. The other—broader, uglier—kept coming.
"Little rat!"
She kicked off a barrel, changed direction mid-stride. The alley opened into another street, this one packed with afternoon crowds. She wove between legs, under hanging laundry, through the chaos of bodies and sound.
**WIDE SHOT:** The chase from above. The girl, small and desperate. Two grown men, relentless.
When the first one's hand grasped at her shoulder, she *spun*—her leg whipping up in a wild kick that caught him square in the face. He stumbled back, blood streaming from his nose.
She picked up the pace.
---
## The Witness
High above, perched on the slanted roof tiles like a gargoyle, a boy watched.
Louis.
Sixteen years old, carrying himself with the weight of someone who'd seen too much. His eyes tracked every movement below, calculating, assessing. The wind tugged at his dark hair.
**CAMERA PANS:** Following his gaze down to the street below.
The girl burst into the next street, chest heaving.
A merchant stood by his cart, arranging apples in neat rows. His back was to the chase.
The two men spotted their opportunity.
"Hey!" One of them shouted. "Catch that thief!"
The merchant's head snapped up, confused.
The girl burst into view—a blur of motion and torn fabric. She flashed past him, her catlike agility impossible to miss. One moment she was there, the next she was ten feet beyond, still running.
The merchant stood frozen, apple still in his hand, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"I'm not a thief!" Her voice cracked with desperation as she kept running. "Please leave me alone!"
The two men thundered past, knocking into his cart. Apples scattered across the cobblestones, rolling in every direction.
Louis's eyes narrowed. He'd been watching longer than they knew. He'd seen how this started—seen these men corner her, seen her fight back, seen her run for her life.
She fought for scraps with other street kids, sure. Everyone knew that. But stolen? Never.
The men closed in. One grabbed her arm, fingers digging in like iron claws. She struggled, twisting, but he was too strong.
"Please let me go!"
**CLOSE ON:** Louis's face. Something shifted there—something in his eyes. A stirring in his chest, unfamiliar and fierce. He'd seen street kids before. Helped them before. But this girl—maybe younger than him,with those desperate eyes...
This was different.
His jaw set.
---
## The Stand
Louis stood.
The movement was smooth, practiced. He stepped to the edge of the roof, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.
"Stop where you are."
**CAMERA ANGLES UP:** From the street, he looked imposing—a young man backlit by sunlight. His voice carried across the space with an authority that made even grown men pause.
The men looked up. The girl looked up.
His father had been one of the top mercenaries in this region—a man who'd led this town through countless hardships through sheer will and spirit. Not the best fighter, perhaps, but a brilliant strategist. A man whose very presence commanded respect.
His father was gone now.
But what he'd left behind was this: a pure will that stood against anything—*anything*—that crossed the path of justice.
Louis's glare *pierced* through them. The intensity of it bordered on killing intent, something primal and dangerous burning behind those young eyes.
The men laughed.
"Kid!" The uglier one spat on the ground. "Scram if you wanna live. You think you're a hero?" He grinned, showing yellow teeth. "You're not. Not like your father."
The other drew a sword—the metal singing as it cleared the sheath. Sunlight glinted off the blade.
"Go away before I kill you."
Louis didn't flinch. Instead, he jumped—landing in the street with a *thud* that sent dust rising around his boots. He straightened slowly, deliberately.
"You said she's a thief, but I watched you guys from above, from the roof." His voice was steady, cold. "And I know *exactly* who you are."
The men's eyes narrowed. They knew exactly who HE was. Hands tightened on weapons.
Then they laughed—but it was forced, bitter.
"Snoopin' around like you own the place! You think you're a hero?" He grinned, showing yellow teeth. "You're not. Not like your father."
Louis's eyes turned to ice.
"You ran free after my father was gone." His voice dropped, deadly quiet. "That ends today."
Then he *yelled*, the sound ripping from his throat with all the fury of someone who'd lost too much already.
"You slave traders! I want my friends back!"
**BEAT OF SILENCE.**
The broader one—the leader—smiled. It was the worst kind of smile.
"Boy!" He laughed, low and cruel. "They've already been sold. And this little girl?" His eyes slid to her, and she shrank back. "Pretty face, good build. Within a few years she'll turn into a sexy young lady. Many nobles would throw not silver but *golds* for her!"
Louis's hands clenched into fists. Heat flared in his chest—anger so pure it burned.
He stepped forward, placing himself between them and the girl.
Behind him, her eyes filled with tears.
"Now I'll show you—you underestimated me."
---
## The Fight
**FAST CUTS BEGIN:**
Louis *moved*.
The first man swung the sword in a wide arc. Louis ducked under it, rolled forward, came up inside his guard. His fist drove into the man's kidney—once, twice—before he had to twist away from the second man's grabbing hands.
At sixteen, he fought like a seasoned warrior. Every movement had purpose. Every strike was calculated.
The sword came again—he caught the man's wrist, redirected the blade into the dirt, drove his elbow up into the man's jaw. *Crack.* The man staggered.
But the second one caught Louis from behind, thick arms wrapping around him. Louis drove his head backward—*crunch*—into the man's nose. Blood sprayed.
They beat him. Fists like hammers. He went down once, twice—
—but he got back up.
**CAMERA CIRCLES:** The three figures locked in brutal combat. Dust rising. Blood flying.
Louis took a hit to the ribs that would've dropped a grown man. He gave it back *tenfold*—a spinning kick that sent teeth scattering across the cobblestones.
The sword clattered away. Louis grabbed it.
He didn't use the blade. He reversed it, used the pommel like a club, drove it into the first man's temple. The man collapsed.
The second one tried to run. Louis tackled him from behind, brought him down hard. They rolled across the ground, grappling, until Louis got his arm around the man's throat and *squeezed*.
"You're done."
**WIDE SHOT:** Louis standing over two unconscious bodies, rope in hand. He worked quickly, efficiently—tying their hands behind their backs, then their feet. His nose bled freely. Scrapes covered his arms, his face. His clothes were torn.
But his determination hadn't wavered. Not for a second.
One of the men groaned, consciousness returning.
"You'll pay for this!!!"
Louis looked down at him, eyes cold.
"No. *You* will."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small magical item—a signal flare. It flared to life in his hand, brilliant crimson, and he threw it into the air.
**CAMERA FOLLOWS:** The flare arcing up, up, up—then exploding in a burst of red light that hung in the sky like a miniature sun.
---
## The Aftermath
Minutes later, the town guards arrived—armor clanking, weapons drawn.
"Finally!"
The captain took one look at the scene and shook his head, almost smiling.
"These two have been robbing and human trafficking for almost a year now. We'll handle it." He clapped Louis on the shoulder. "Thanks, Louis!"
"Please find my friends."
"We will. Master Luan is already on this—he'll find the traces now that these two have been found."
Louis nodded. Turned his back on the guards, the criminals, the gathering crowd—
—and the girl was *nowhere*.
"She ran off????"
**CAMERA PANS:** Empty space where she'd been standing.
Louis's eyes swept the street. Then, without hesitation, he *jumped*—catching the same wall he'd descended from, pulling himself up to the rooftops with practiced ease.
**ROOFTOP CHASE SEQUENCE:**
From above, he spotted her immediately. A small figure running across the clay tiles, stumbling, desperate.
He *ran*—faster, more direct. Cut across a different rooftop, leaped a gap that would've killed most people, and landed ahead of her path.
She skidded to a stop as he dropped down in front of her.
"Stay away!" Tears streamed down her face again, fresh and hot.
Louis held up his hands, palms out.
"Please calm down. I wanna help."
"How?" Her voice broke. "To sell me off to a big fat noble? I don't wanna be a plaything!"
"I'm not gonna." He took a careful step forward. "Please hear me out. You can come with me. To my home."
The girl's tears slowed, but doubt replaced the fear on her pretty, dirt-smudged face. Her body was coiled, ready to bolt.
She was unsure how to act. He'd saved her, yes. But trusting him? That was something else entirely.
Louis reached into his pocket. Pulled out a small wrapped candy. Held it out like a peace offering.
"It's good! Take it. And calm yourself down. It helps me always."
She stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the candy.
"You think I'm dumb?" Her voice was sharp, defensive. "I know this is a trap and that may be a sleeping potion mixed in!"
Without a word, Louis unwrapped it. Brought it to his lips.
**SLOW MOTION:** His teeth breaking the candy in half. The piece separating.
He chewed one half, deliberately. The other half still in his fingers.
"Now... see? It's good."
He offered her the bitten half.
"Here."
**CLOSE ON:** The girl's eyes. They went wide—*saucer-wide*—locked on the candy piece that had just touched his lips.
Her face flushed. Red bloomed across her cheeks like spilled wine.
"I don't want your leftover." Her voice cracked on the last word.
**BEAT.**
Louis scratched his head, completely oblivious.
"Oh man! Sorry, I only have this one. Master Luan gave it to me for capturing a wild dog yesterday that ran wild inside the town..."
For street kids, candy like this was a treasure—something you'd see in shop windows but never taste. A luxury beyond reach.
**CAMERA SHIFTS:** The girl's face. Her eyes fixed on the candy in his hand. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Hard. Her fingers curled into her torn dress. Her mouth almost—*almost*—drooled.
The flush on her cheeks deepened.
Louis shrugged. "Okay, my bad. I'll eat it myself then—"
"No wait!!!!"
She reached out—fingers trembling, grasping at air.
"Please give it."
**CLOSE ON:** Her face. Half-embarrassed, half-desperate. She couldn't look at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground, on the candy, anywhere but his face.
She took it from his hand—her fingers barely touching his—and brought it to her lips. Hesitated for just a heartbeat.
Then ate it. Quick. Like someone might take it away. Like she needed to before she changed her mind.
Her cheeks stayed red the entire time.
After a moment, her breathing evened out. The panic faded from her eyes.
Louis caught her hand gently.
"Come. Follow me!"
"Hey! Stop pulling!!!"
"Ahahah, okay!"
**CAMERA FOLLOWS:** The two of them walking through the streets.
People stopped. Stared. Whispered.
An old woman paused mid-sweep, broom frozen. A merchant leaned out from his stall, eyebrows raised. Children playing in the street pointed and giggled.
They looked like a young couple—hand in hand, walking together through the afternoon light.
Except they were covered in blood and dirt. Clothes torn. Faces bruised and scraped.
The girl ducked her head lower, trying to hide behind her tangled hair. But warmth spread through her chest anyway—unfamiliar, confusing.
Her free hand clutched at her torn dress. Her cheeks stayed pink beneath the grime.
But he kept hold of her hand as he led her through the streets, toward home.
---
## The Home
**EXTERIOR: A modest house, warm light glowing from the windows.**
Louis knocked on the door.
"Mom!!!! I'm home!!!!"
His mother opened the door—still young but with tired eyes that had seen too much.
"Louis!! What happened to your face?"
Her face went *pale*. Her son—her precious boy, sixteen now but still her child—stood there covered in blood, bruises blooming across his skin, clothes torn. She nearly didn't notice the young girl behind him.
Even though this was almost daily routine, she couldn't accept it. Her heart was too frail for this.
She grabbed his face, turned it this way and that, examining the damage. Then, without thinking, she wiped at the blood with her own dress sleeve, motherly instinct overriding everything else.
Then she saw the girl.
Young. Beaten. Exhausted. Her dress ripped in many places, dirt and bruises covering her thin arms.
"Did you two...?"
"No, we didn't fight. It's those slave traders."
"What happened!!!!!!!"
"Nothing, Mom. I dealt with them."
She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her hand went to her chest, feeling her heart hammer.
"And why did you bring her here?"
"She's staying with us."
"What about the orphanage?"
"They're already full. Three days ago Luan brought seven more. So, no space left."
His mother put her hand on her head, rubbed her temple. Fighting off a headache.
"Our home is gonna be a second orphanage in this town!!!!"
She looked back over her shoulder. From deeper in the house, three small children—barely four years old—peeked around the doorframe.
"Louis brought a girl home!!!"
"I wanna see!"
"She's pretty!!"
"Suspicious!!!"
One of them giggled like a perverted old man—a sound that should *not* have come from a child that young.
Louis's mother looked back at her son.
"Son! You sure we can handle it?"
"I'm sure." He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly shy. "And... I kinda like her."
**BEAT.**
The words hung in the air like floating flower petals.
Heat bloomed across the little girl's face. Her eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
**CLOSE ON:** Her expression. Embarrassed. Confused. But something else, too. Something warm and uncertain—the look of a thirteen-year-old girl feeling something new.
Louis's mother put her hand over her face.
"No questions asked, Master Louis!!"
The teasing went unnoticed.
She sighed—dramatic, exaggerated, but with a smile hidden beneath it.
The children *whistled* in unison from the doorway.
**CAMERA PULLS BACK:** The small family framed in the doorway. Louis still holding the girl's hand. His mother shaking her head but already stepping aside to let them in. The children bouncing with excitement.
**FADE TO:**
Warm light from inside the house spilling onto the street. The door closing softly.
**FADE OUT.**
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*This is how the best couple of this series' love story started.*
*Not the ending—just the beginning.*
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**END OF PROLOGUE**