Hazel - The Outlaw (Patreon)

Every year, the fountain needed to be cleaned. A green film would inch across the stone, causing a sort of sludge to emerge at the bottom of the pool. The water flowed less freely then and the mood around the fountain became less for lovers and more for melancholic reflection. From the time I had known Hazel, she had made it her job to clean the three tiered fountain that sat at the courtyard near the opening of her alleyway. No one else was going to do it so she would take it upon herself. It would often take her all day and she would bring snacks for people who passed by. Everyone always ate the snacks, no one stopped to help her.

When I woke that morning, finding the shop closed and a note on the door saying that she was out, I put on my shoes and headed down the alleyway. She hadn’t told me the night before that today was the day but Hazel rarely went ‘out’ for any other reason. Not without me, at least. When I found her, she was hunched at the base of the fountain, scrubbing it with a handheld brush and humming to herself. Paper birds hopped around her, chirping angrily if their feet got wet and disintegrated.

I came up, sitting at the fountains edge, reaching my hand into the water to clear it of any leaves or debris that had gathered in there through the year. “You should have told me that you were coming out here today,” I admonished. “I would have woken up with you.”

Hazel smiled a bit, not pausing in her cleaning. “I knew you would find me. You always find me.”

“The point is that I shouldn’t have to find you. We should tackle this together.”

A soft blush tinted the apples of her cheeks. Hazel wasn’t good about asking for help. Years of being turned down had done that to her. “It’s okay,” she told me softly. “I like coming out here. Besides, you’re here now.”

I always would be.

It was a marvel to me the things Hazel did on her own. It wasn’t the shop that she ran or the small farm she kept out back that was impressive. More so it was the little things she did for a community, who at large, ignored her.. The baskets of medicine she made sure to gift to new families. The tonics that were suddenly sold at a pittance of the price. If Hazel heard someone was in need, a box would show up at their door, unmarked, but filled with all of the necessities that catered to their healing. She had alarms everywhere to denote when someone was suffering and silently, she took care of it for them, not asking for even a thank you.

I knelt by her side, having gotten most of the detritus out of the water. Next, I would need to put something in to clean the water itself so it wasn’t tinted a sickly green.

“What do I add?” I asked her, looking at the array of bottles before me.

“The purple one and the brown one,” she said, tongue between her teeth as she scrubbed a particular spot with vigor.

I took the bottles, dumping them into the water and watching the contents swirl. The water turned black, hissing in pain before it started to clear. I tucked the bottles into my pocket, trying to hide the contraband, certain that this wasn’t entirely legal.

Hazel was giggling at my side. “You are the Night Market,” she stage whispered to me. “I don’t think you can get in trouble for having something like that.”

“You are making me an accomplice,” I told her, lips twitching a little. “I don’t think either of us would do good on the run.”

“You don’t? I think we would be spectacular. We could get fancy clothes and rob districts blind to give goods to the poor. Then of course we would have to pay for those goods because I’m not a savage person. I don’t want to steal from anyone's livelihood.”

I laughed. “See? Terrible.”

“It’s not terrible to be polite,” she said primly. Standing, she brushed her hands on her skirt, surveying the fountain. Whatever she had been scrubbing the base with was doing the work itself now, eating away at the algae and whatever ele was stuck there.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be thieves,” she told me. “What other kind of outlaws are there?”

“Murderers?”

“I don’t want to be that,” she said with a small sigh. “What about outlaws that pretend to be on the run and instead start small chicken farms in each neighborhood. We could be called the Midnight Cluckers and we drop baby chicks off at unsuspecting houses so they have fresh eggs the following season.”

I stood, wrapping my arms around her. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Yes,” she said with a resolute nod. “We would be feared by all.”

I pulled her back to my chest, her curvaceous body curling against my own. She smelled faintly like something burnt and disinfectant. “Who would run the apothecary while we are doing our midnight chicken runs?”

“Mr. Billows. He’s a customer favorite anyway. Though, he is a shrewd businesscat.”

I shook my head, brushing my nose against her kinky locks. The nape of her neck was still damp from her bath this morning. “I will have to think about this,” I murmured to her. If only to get rid of some of our chickens. The situation had gotten out of control.

The water before us bubbled, the fountain beginning to run clean. A sweet smell came from its depths and I had no doubt that the evening would bring many wanderers to come sit by the waters edge, tossing coins containing small wishes into the basin. I saw a few already glimmering there that I had maybe missed during the clean out.

Except these ones were swimming.

Peering over Hazel’s shoulders I caught sight of the small coins. They were in the form of little silver fish, darting around the basin and sucking up bits of currency from the bottom floor. They then zippied towards the pipe that led underground, fitting themselves through a small opening to never be seen again.

“What are those?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Spies,” she said simply.

“Spies for what?”

“Evreryone in the market.” It was a credit to her that she didn’t even seem embarrassed by it. “I renew the fountain every year with them and they are paid by the coins that people toss in the water. They collect their payment, go out, and tell me everything I need to know going on within the market proper. It’s incredibly efficient.”

I blinked down at her. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

“I thought you came here to clean the fountain.”

“I do,” she told me. “I just also take the opportunity to load it up with little tracking fishy’s. I used to send constructs out but people have a real problem with their privacy being invaded if it's done by a humanoid structure. The fish are much stealthier.”

I stared down at the top of her head. It was easy to forget just how devious she could really be. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure if our chicken bandit conversation was a joke or not.

“How many fish did you release?”

She turned in my arms, standing on tiptoes to kiss my lips. “Let’s go home.” Her fingers threaded in mine and with a wave of her other hand, the cleaning supplies were gone. I could clearly see the small sigil carved by a cleaning brush, at the base of the fountain. It was in the shape of a small fish.

“Hazel, not that I think people can’t use help but this seems a bit dubious.” She was dragging me from the fountain by then and I was left to look between the water and her, my mouth agape.

“Do you want soup for lunch?” she asked.

“Hazel.”

“Or maybe those jam tarts. I’m feeling like having something sweet.”

“You are diabolical.”

She grinned at me. “Thank you. Now, what are you hungry for?”

Behind me, there was a splash in the water as a surge of spy fish emerged from the fountain, getting up on little legs and walking down the forked alleyways.  A couple of the paper birds pecked at them but the fish ate them in turn.

Sometimes, it was just best not to question my girlfriends mind or the things she got up to while everyone else was turned the other way.