Edge of Thorns

Chapter One: Butterfly in the Wind

A/N: Cyra pronnounced like Sigh - rah, just incase people get confused. Thanks for taking the time to read.

Music was drifting across from the other side of the street, carried to me by the wind. It was soft and sweet, haunting but melodic. My ears perked up at once at the sound of the song, and I stood up from my seat. From what I could see, there was a girl sitting on a carved seat with a piano on a front porch, playing quietly to herself.

If I was honest, I thought she was even better than me. The music flowed seamlessly, twisting and morphing elegantly like the curves of a river. I felt a bubble of jealousy well up inside of my chest, instantly squashed by the desire to see who she was, and why she was playing a piano on the other side of my street.

I crossed the road, a light breeze lifting up my hair and kissing my neck. The weather was definitely getting cooler, even though it was still summer, and I was glad of that. I'd had enough of the relentless heat that battered down on my small apartment that my mother and older brother lived in. We lived right in the metropolis of town, but at this time of the afternoon, things were relatively quiet. Save the constant sound of traffic from the main road less than a block of apartments away.

My street was clear of traffic, and I stopped walking just beyond the two-storey house that blended in well with the apartment blocks. From where I was standing, I could only see a sliver of the girl, her platinum hair swinging over her shoulder as the musical notes blended together gently.

A glimmer of blue, or maybe green, caught my vision. It was a butterfly; I realised, and watched it flutter around her, as if it was attracted to her by the music she played. From in between the criss-crossed fence that separated us, I saw her pale hand rise, and the butterfly settled on it, folding the wind onto itself.

I wasn't sure if I should approach her, but before I could turn around and head back to my apartment, the music came to a halt.

"Hello?" Even her voice sounded musical, I mused. "Who's that?"

"Cyra," I said, walking forwards up the stairs and onto the porch. The girl looked a little taken aback by my intrusiveness, but she seemed to overlook it.

She smiled, showing pearly white teeth. At a guess, she would have had braces for years. "Ambria," she said, and to my surprise, extended a hand.

I shook it, and it felt soft and smooth, like she used moisturizer every second she could.

"You're new around here?" I asked her, and my eyes slid to the piano. It was quite large and expensive; nothing like small battered one I owned that had paint peeling from it.

"Yes," she said. "Quite a change from my old home town, but I'll get used to it, I'm sure."

I smiled a little at that. "It's the constant noise, isn't it? That's why I play music; it's a nice distraction from the sounds of cars and busses."

"I suppose. What did you say your name was? Crya?"

"Yeah. Cyra Livington." I thought I saw something, like amusement, gleam in her eyes, but I couldn't be sure. Her long blonde hair fell over he face and she turned away slightly.

"Well, I'll see you later, Crya." There was almost a dismissive note to her tone, now. I didn't much like to be rejected by this person, but there wasn't much I could do about it. So I just nodded and headed back to my apartment.

A feeling of unease rippled through me as I glanced back at her house, but I didn't know why. She was still there, playing her piano. The wind had changed, and I could no longer hear the notes. As if she sensed someone watching her, she turned and looked at me.