Zharia plopped herself down on the edge of the fountain. Putting her head in her hands so that no one walking past would notice the tears that now streamed freely down her face.
I had to do it I had to! But I turned in him in for that stupid rule.... arrgh get a hold of your self Zharia! He was dangerous.
With a sigh Zharia leaned back, tipping her face towards the sky. Splashes of water mist fell from the foutain to land softly on her skin. She wore a dress of deep purple, with yellow flower embrioded onto the bottom of it. Her sleeve trailed behind her, touching the pool of water in the fountain. She just stayed there for a moment, befroe the guilt made her move again, she shifted her position so that she was looking back at the building she had just left. Red flags flew proudly on the tops of the prison, it's black stones soaking up the sun's rays, so that it looked as if it was cloaked in a visible sheild of promised death.
Stop thinking about him, you stupid girl! There's nothing you can do for him. But I was the one who put him there........
Zharia bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembiling. Her Blue eyes were red from the tears that still slid down her face. She wiped them away angirly, not caring that her dampened sleeves splashed water on the dress she was wearing. Her black hair hung in curls that bounced when she wiped the tears away.
She could still feel his eyes on her, accusing her for what she had done. 'I had to' she whispered, her eyes focused on her feet that wore golden sandels, passer byers looked at her as if afraid that she had gone mad. Ha, they would know... she thought to herself. She gripped her hands on the edge of the foutain, gripping the hang over until her kuckles turned white agaist her slightly tanned skin.
Madness was spreading fast through the kingdom, people became suspicous of every one, and know they are all condemed. That means he would die. Zharia let out an angry curse, and looked up to find a child standing infront of her, with wide brown eyes, tattered clothes and brown mop hair. The child held a bag in it's hand and passed it to Zharia without a word, turned and left through the crowded streets of the city, dissepearing, to be swallowed by the mass of moving bodies.
The bag was rough under her hands, and heavy. Zharia, sat there for a moment trying to figure out what had just happened. She didnt open the bag, instead she tied it to her belt and moved away from the fountain, her dress trailing behing her, not bothering to lift it up from the dirt.