Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own, brilliance on those who do.

Please comment: criticism is good, guidance is better. ---------------------------------------------------- To her great surprise, the little one didn’t scream. In fact, a giant smile washed over her slight face.

“Found you,” the little one said. “Hiding in plain sight.”

She looked up from her very uncomfortable position between the bolted furniture. “Well,” she began, trying to keep the edge out of her voice, “whatever works, ne ce’st pas?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly a pair of slender hands reached in and took hold of her arms. After a few forceful tugs, the little one decided to employ a different method. “Simon? Captain?” she called out.

Within seconds, she went from being a breathing end table stuck between solid clapboard furniture to being the main attraction in a very tiny zoo. There were seven pairs of eyes now completely trained on her, some in shock at her presence, others full of worry and dread, still others just wondering what in the hell was going on.

The captain was the first to say something: “Zoe, do you remember stowing a girl there between the chairs? “Cause I must have forgotten that part.”

“No, sir. Must have forgotten that myself,” said Zoe, who reminded her of a graceful Amazon from the old volumes from Earth-that-was. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that if she wanted, she could end her already short life a bit too quickly. Reading deeper, she found that among other things, she seemed to be a rational sort---something she hoped would continue, for her sake.

“Anyone here remember picking up this little article?” said the captain again, a bit too loudly. It was obvious that he was both very confused and decidedly irritated---even a deaf-mute could have picked that up from the contortions his face was going through at the moment.

Her knees couldn’t stand being scrunched together and bent a second longer. “Okay, okay, je l’obteins. Could you please hurry and decide whether you’re going to shoot me or help me out? I don’t think my knees can take much more of this,” she said with a grimace.

There were no less than three pairs of hands reaching in to grab her: the little one’s, the captain’s and the young man’s. After a few more yanks on her arms (which felt like rubber after being nearly pulled out of their sockets) she was finally free of that wretched space. “That’s the last time I try my end table impression,” she quipped, trying to make light of the fact that there were several worried, confused, and angry people standing in front of her.

“Might be the last time you do anything, you don’t start telling that story,” said the captain.

“Story?”

“Yeah---the one where you tell me who in the tyen shao duh you are and why you’re on my ship.” The look on the man’s face would have put the fear of God into many, but she realized he had to be concerned. Other people’s welfare’s were at stake besides his own.

She lifted her hands to show she wasn’t armed, and then tipped her head toward the table. “Certainment. Mind if I sit down?

She took slow, careful steps towards the kitchen table---she didn’t want to have anything about her misconstrued as a threat against them. No reason for them to call the federales on me… she thought.

After everyone got settled (or, she thought darkly, as settled as they’re going to get), she began. “What do you want to know first?”

“Who are you?” asked the young man.

She hesitated. After a moment, she decided that it was better to tell these people the truth. “If it’s the federales you’re worried about, don’t be. I don’t want to be found by them either.”

“Either?” That was the captain.

“Let’s say I can tell you’re in no hurry to call them, for several reasons.”

“Such as?” That was the Amazon. It was times like these she wished she were a reader instead of an empath---so she didn’t have to ask people what they went by. She herself had three names, but she remembered that most of the known ‘verse didn’t follow the beliefs of the Creoles.

“For starters, that little one there.”

Hardened expressions. A few meaningful glances. The girl let a gasp escape her mouth, which was hanging wide open. The young man edged between her and the little one. There was something about him, now that she got a good look at him, that she thought she remembered…

She smiled her half-smile. “Don’t worry. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” The young man’s face went from stone to one of mild confusion.

“Sorry I couldn’t stop them. I know what they did to her.” She looked past them all and connected with the little one’s gaze, which was now floating over the whole room. She closed her eyes. “They made me watch.”

“Two by two, hands of blue. Made you see. Said there would be more. Close. The shadows would disappear, one by one.” The little one walked over towards her, and though the young man tried to stop her, the little one stopped in front of her and put her hand on her shoulder. “They’re still there. Changed, but there.”

She smiled, and heaved a sigh of relief. It was the best news she could have heard. “Merci beaucoup, mon ami. Merci.”

“You were at the Academy?” This came from the elegant lady, who had been standing somewhat back from the proceedings. The belle dame reminded her of the League Companions from the Common. Her poise, her demeanor and her manner all spoke of her being a lady of grace and stature, but she lacked a few of the characteristics that would have marked her as a Shadow-trained Companion. She wondered briefly what a woman like her would be doing out here.

“The Academy?” She was puzzled.

“It’s where my sister was, when they did those things to her. You never knew the name of the place?”

“Maybe she’s fishin’,” said the tall man---Jayne, she recalled. He was a mess to dig through. She put it off for the moment.

“No, no fishing. I never was told where I’d been sold to.”

More than a few eyes went up at this. “Sold?”

“Yes. Illegal slavery is frowned upon by the federales, unlike indenture---or at least, it was five years ago. However, no one looks too closely when it’s Shadows that are being stolen.”

“Ain’t nobody can steal shadows.”

A slight chuckle escaped her lips. “Not those kind of shadows. Creoles.”

“A…what?” asked the girl. “What’re they?”

“People that base their origin from the state of Louisiana, back on Earth-that-was. A mixture of different cultures, based mainly on the French. Now meaning those who follow the code of Creoles, speaking a French-based language as a common tongue.” The little one’s eyes batted for a moment.

She had work to cover her own surprise---most didn’t know the Shadows existed. “She’s right. We’re commonly called ‘Shadows’ because we’ve learned to hide in plain sight. We can blend in, disappear---become a part of the background, like a Shadow. Plus, a lot of our work is clandestine---

“You’re destined to do what?” The tall man again. It was fairly obvious that he had only a basic grasp of what was painfully clear.

“She means secretive, undercover-type work. Spying and the like.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. Our main work is information. Gossip can be left to the Cortex; news can be altered by the federales. We tend to deal in truths.” She then added, “among other things.”

“So, let me see if I got this---you were taken and sold to that wacky Academy because your people get information?”

“Not exactly. It’s hard to explain---let’s just say that because of my profession, the federales decided I was more useful to them under their complete control. And when I say “complete,” I mean “total.””

“I’m lost.”

“So am I.”

“Wanted her for what she could do. Information part of it. Wanted it all.” It seemed like the only one in the room who understood was the little one herself. She tried to think of her name---she was sure she’d heard it before…

“River,” the little one said, pointing at herself.

She smiled. “Chase,” she said. “My name is Chase.”