It was autumn and the festival of the harvest was ending that night. The gypsies always seemed to prospered most this night, whether from selling their tradeable goods or rumoring pick pocketing. The gypsies were mysterious and wonderous to anyone, especially the gyspsy women. They were always beautiful and just as forbidden. A gypsy woman was unmarriable and labeled dangerous. These rumors didn't stop them from performing and earning a living near the towns and villages as they wondered from place to place.
Tonight was a full moon and the music was fast and magic. She was dancing, quickly, her bare feet dirty from kicking up the dry dust. She was young but her hair was white like ice and her eyes gold like royals wore. She welded a sword, not only for decoration because she had caused trouble in other towns and she didn't want anyone else to solve her problems. The music ended and she moved from the dancers as the next song started to play. She sighed and headed towards her caravan, reaching in and pulling out a canteen, she noticed a shadow and turned quickly.
