Maya's birth had been long and hard, an ordeal that almost killed her mother. Ashley was just three years old at the time, but she would never forget the screams and the blood of that night. It had been terrifying and traumatising for all involved, but no amount of screaming and no amount of blood could ever create a stronger memory for Ashley than that of looking down at her tiny, wailing, beautiful little sister for the first time, and knowing—even then, knowing—what the purpose of her life was.

Unfortunately, the love that Ashley felt for her sister was not shared by their mother.

"Last bloody laugh of that useless stinkin' father of hers, ain't she. You're just as useless and just as stinkin' as he was, you know that? Worse even, why'd you have to be born a girl? Couldn't get one thing right, could you. Not even one tiny thing."

Their mother never passed up an opportunity to speak ill of Maya. Privately Ashley thought that her mother was trying to repay the pain of Maya's birth, little by little, cutting remark by cutting remark, beating by beating.

"Don't touch her!" Ashley cried, her small hands clasping around her mother's thick forearm, easily thrown off.

"Don't tell me what I can do to my own child, you little scrag!"

On her back, and on her behind, and on the backs of her legs, near the top. The places that bruises and cuts wouldn't show. After all, their mother had her pride.

For the most part.

"I'm off out working. Don't eat anything while I'm gone, I come back and find one crumb missing I'm taking it out of your sister's skin."

"Maya can't find her necklace. Did you take it again?" Ashley's voice, though childish and thin, held an anger beyond her years. Her mother just laughed.

"So how'd you think we even got food in the cupboards? She can go steal it back if she loves it so much. You know the place."

Maya's necklace was old and worn, made of dozens of tiny pieces of orange stone strung together. Ashley thought it was ugly, but to Maya it was the most important possession she had—almost the only possession she had. No matter how many times their mother pawned it Ashley always got it back for her sister, no matter what she had to do.

"It's okay, Maya, don't cry. I got it back, see?"

"She'll just take it again!"

"Then I'll get it back for you again. Don't you remember your facts?"

Over the course of their childhood, Ashley had tried dozens of tricks to cheer her sister up, to give her something other than pain and hunger and disappointment to focus on, and had eventually stumbled upon 'facts'. Maya and Ashley's world was one in which very little was permanent. They'd moved many times, always suddenly; both Maya and Ashley knew that any night they could be woken by their mother's drunken shouting, be forced to gather up what little clothes and items they had and shuffle wearily from whatever tiny dirty stinking room they were currently living in to whatever tiny dirty stinking room they'd be living in next. They didn't question this, it was just a part of life, but Ashley saw the effect that this, on top of everything else, had on her sister. And so, facts. Something hard and solid and permanent for Maya to hold on to.

Like, 'My sister will always protect me, no matter what'.

Like, 'I am strong and tough and clever and good and that is why I will survive'.

Like, 'Things will get better'.

Just because something was a fact, Ashley reasoned, didn't mean it had to be true.

"Ashley, why are we out here? It's cold!"

Ashley didn't respond, just kept her eyes focused ahead and took a firmer grip on her sister's wrist.

"Not so tight, Ash, that hurts!"

"Don't squirm," Ashley hissed, glancing back at her sister as she pulled her along the snow-covered streets. "We're almost there, we're almost done, then we can buy food."

"Apples?"

"No! I told you already! We can't afford apples!"

There was a moment of silence, then Ashley glanced back at her sister again and scowled.

"Don't CRY, Maya! I already explained to you—look, I'll buy you a gingerbread man, okay? One just for you, you don't have to share it with me or anything, I promise."

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Maya's expression changed instantly.

"Really?"

"Remember your facts."

Fact: 'My sister always keeps her promises'.

Maya nodded.

"So just be quiet now, okay? Just wait a little bit longer and we'll be done."

They marched through the streets in silence for a few seconds, the snow crunching beneath their soft shoes.

"Ash—"

"What?"

"Why are we OUT here? It's COLD!"

Ashley grit her teeth. She was just about to turn to admonish her sister when a heavy weight struck her arm and sent her sprawling against the icy street, cold pain shooting through her. Ashley struggled to get up, her feet scrabbling against the slippery cobblestones, her young voice sounding out in a cry of frustration and pain as she slipped and skinned her palm.

"Having trouble there, sweet?"

Almost in tears from shame and frustration and impotent anger, Ashley managed to get to her feet, whirling around to face a large man with a pocked and pitted face. He held a long, dirty knife casually in one hand, the other grabbing hold of the hood of Maya's cloak.

"You let her go," Ashley growled. "You let her go NOW."

"This ain't like that," the man said. Maya twisted a little in his grasp, but only to get more comfortable. She was gazing at her sister, her face calm and patient.

Fact: 'If I get in trouble, my sister will help me'.

"Let her go," Ashley repeated, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

"I'm plannin' to. Honest. But first I gotta get something from you, sweet. You're one of Mr Amon's little messenger birds, ain't ya?"

Ashley hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Thought so. You've got something real important in that little bag there, don't ya?"

Ashley nodded again. The man grinned.

"That's wonderful. So I reckon all you gotta do is hand it over, and you and this one'll be on your happy way. That sound good?"

Ashley's eyes flicked to her sister's; nothing but patient trust showed in them. She looked back at the man, then reached into her bag.

"Ooh, now, see, that ain't but smart," the man said, as Ashley pulled out a short, sharp knife. "That ain't but a bit smart."

"Mr Amon trusts me to deliver his messages," Ashley said, holding the knife up in front of her. "If I don't do it properly we won't get paid and we won't get any more jobs from him."

"That's real sad, ya know?"

"I know."

"But, yeah, I got the same problem you got. Because the man I work for trusts me to get that message off ya. And if I don't do what he wants he's gonna do worse to me than make me go hungry, hear what I'm saying, kid?"

Ashley nodded, something like fear in her eyes.

"So ya still keen to keep that little knife in your little hand?"

Ashley nodded again.

"We need food," she said. "My sister is hungry."

"Sister, eh? Wouldn't have guessed it," said the man, looking down at Maya, at her large brown eyes and at the heavy black hair that hung around her face, then back up at Ashley, at her short dirty-blonde hair, at her light brown eyes, at her freckled, flat face. "Wouldn't have guessed that at all. Reckon that makes this harder for ya, yeah?"

Ashley's eyes narrowed as she shook her head slowly. She could feel herself getting hot, knew her face was flushed. The man laughed.

"Can't fault yer heart, sweet, that's for sure." The man twisted Maya's hood tighter, and she let out a tiny yelp. "How old are ya anyway? Seven?"

"Eight," said Ashley.

"Lord bless me, eight years old and holding a knife like a pro. Well, almost a pro. Real pro wouldn't show until he had to."

Ashley scowled.

"Reckon you know a thing or two, though," the man said, raising his knife in front of him, twisting his hand still-tighter in the hood of Maya's cloak. "Reckon you can see I know how to handle this bit o' sharp better'n most."

Ashley glanced at Maya again, then looked back at the man before nodding once more.

"So I reckon I'll be charitable and give you one last chance, darling, for yourself and yer pretty little sister here. Put away that sweet little knife and give me what I'm after. We all walk away happy, right? I ain't the kind that gets kicks from cutting up little girls. Don't wanna be having bad dreams tonight, hear what I'm saying?"

"Let go of my sister," Ashley said. "Then you won't have to worry about bad dreams."

"Yeah, but, see, here's the thing," said the man. "I know bad dreams can't hurt me. But my boss? Yeah, I sure know he can."

The man pushed Maya roughly away as he lunged forward at Ashley, his knife swishing through the air just a few inches away from her face as she dodged back, her feet slipping on the icy street—she fell hard on to her backside and scrabbled back as the man lunged forward, grabbed the front of her tunic with one hand and effortlessly pulled her to her feet, pressing his knife against her throat.

"Ain't nothing but show, eh?" he growled, his face horribly close to Ashley's. "Reckon when it comes down to it, eight years old is eight years old, don't matter how pro you look—"

The hard, triumphant look in the man's eyes disappeared, replaced by one of total shock.

Fact: 'The best weapon is one the guy you're fighting don't know you have'.

The pressure of the knife against Ashley's throat vanished as the man let her go, and she fell back against the hard, cold ground—he staggered away, clutching at his side, staring at Maya as she stared back at him, her big brown eyes sad and bright, the little knife in her hand dripping with blood.

Fact: 'If you gotta use your knife then it's already too late to hold back'.

Ashley had regained her knife and her feet now, and she moved quickly to stand between the still-shocked man and her little sister.

"Don't talk to me about being pro," she growled, knife held at the ready. "Now run away before we give you some real nightmares."

The man stared at her, pain clear on his face, then he took a step backwards, then another, then he turned and staggered away, dripping blood down on to the dirty snow as he ran. Ashley watched him go, then she put her knife away and turned to her sister. After running her eyes over her, checking that she was okay, she reached out to flick her playfully on the ear.

"Ow! Ash!"

"Clean your knife and let's get out of here," Ashley said. "We're gonna haveta run if you want that gingerbread man."