But the quiet words were interrupted by a low growl from behind me. Both the thief’s and my own eyebrows shot up at the sound, and I could only blink before a small man in an elegant long coat and gleaming top hat was barreling into the thief. He dragged the larger man away from me and over to the broad trunk of a tree with far more strength than I would've expected from such a small-statured man. A large white glove gripped the thief's throat, squeezing tightly, drawing out garbled notes of panic.
"Creatures like you don't deserve to live," the strange little man said, in a voice that was deep and snarling. "My people would not suffer you. But as murder is not welcome here, I will at least ensure one thing."
I gasped as the thief was dropped, only to have his hands snapped up. There was a shocking crunch that echoed around us, and then a high, wailing scream from the thief.
"Run," the little man growled.
And in spite of his freshly broken hands, the thief darted away, his head down and voice strangled with pain as he ran directly from us toward the safety of Jamaica Street.
I gaped at the figure in front of me, petite and entirely at odds with the ferocious tone and actions I'd just witnessed. There was a furrow of displeasure on the otherwise incredibly average and middle-aged face in front of me as he watched my attacker depart.
"Sir, I—I don't know—"
"My apologies, Miss Nix, for my violence," the little man said, and my jaw dropped again.
Now, without the growls and snarls, as calm seemed to come over him, I recognized that voice. One of the large white gloves reached up and up and up—I blinked at the confusion of space—and then lifted the top hat from his head, revealing white tusks and yellow eyes.
"Hunter," I said in a gust of breath, my hand rising to rest over my racing heart. "What on earth are you doing out here?"
He bowed, and that too was familiar, until the hat returned to his head and he was once again a petite and unremarkable little human man. I'd seen such illusions used before, but this one was especially good and so shockingly at odds with his appearance—another mark of this orc's wealth.
"Forgive me for my presumption, but when I realized that you and your friend were traveling through the city on your own, I was concerned for your safety. Rightly so, I'm afraid," he said.
The surprise of the past five minutes had left my tongue loose, and I nearly corrected him. I was capable of protecting myself, most especially here on the green, although it wasn't necessarily worth the risk of exposure.
"However, I think I must now insist that you allow me to walk you to your door," Hunter continued, releasing a heavy breath. "No further. I intend no imposition. Only your safety, Miss Nix."
"Hazel." I shook myself from the confused stupor of the moment. "Please, call me Hazel."
He bowed again, and I huffed out a nervous laugh as I walked forward to meet him. He followed you! an anxious voice warned. And he might nearly have seen proof of my secret if he hadn't stepped in.
Hunter held out his arm for me to take, and I had to look away to make sense of the fact that an arm that appeared so low below mine required me to reach up slightly to hold onto.
Did I have any reason to fear this orc? He'd left so hurriedly at the theater, in spite of my obvious invitation. And he had stepped in on my behalf. But to follow me home…
"Thank you for your help," I said, to cover my spinning thoughts.
"I saw your friend to the corner, but I wish now I'd remained with you," Hunter said, and I leaned forward to see the illusion's lips turning down with his frown.
"I'm fine," I said, squeezing his arm and admiring the bulk of him with my hands, even if I couldn't enjoy it with my eyes. "You were perfectly in time."
"Your purse—"
"Only pennies lost," I said, continuing with a tease. "Did you change your mind after you left my dressing room?"
We were nearing the road, and it was enough light to see a blush on the funny little man's face that I hadn't caught on Hunter's own skin yet.
"It's wrong of me, I know, but I had no intention of alerting you to my presence if it were not for the immediate danger of the—" Hunter's words stuttered as I leaned into his side, finding his shoulder with my temple. There was a little traffic on Stepney Way, and we paused to let it pass.
"I suppose I will have to be grateful to my attacker for forcing you into the light then," I said softly, and Hunter stiffened.
"Miss Nix, that man—"
"He made sure we didn't part so easily. I didn't want you to leave earlier, you know," I said. I was looking down at the small man's face, and I wondered what it must look like to Hunter.
He was quiet as we crossed the road to Wellesley Street together.
"You weren't afraid," Hunter said, and this time, it was my turn to go silent. He frowned again. "Because you are used to such attacks?"
"Thefts, yes," I said. "I have two more purses at home. I make them myself now from old fabric scraps so I don't waste money losing money." His frown grew deeper. There were no lamps on Wellesley near my flat and no sign of anyone outside, and I wanted to pull the hat from his head and stare up into his face again, watch those yellow eyes narrow or light up with every word.
"At the theater, we learn a great many things. And many of those are…for our scenes. But Mr. Reddy and Myra also make sure we know how to escape the grasp of much stronger bodies. How to protect ourselves," I said.
"I would rather you not be put in danger," Hunter muttered.
"This is my door," I said, pulling him to a stop.
Hunter gaped at my little brick building, frowning up at the lamplit windows on the first floor.
"First story is mine," I said, not quite sure why I was sharing.