Instead, I shall just note this. Yesterday, I found myself compelled to note the following in my notebook.
18:42 - Whisperer. Wandering around the streets. I do not think it is following me.I, of course, fled the scene immediately. It doesn't matter that I did not think that it was following me - all that matters is that it was in the city. Whatever it was doing, if it became bored of wandering, it's victim would survive only by it's grace. But this is not a tale about the Whisperer at present.
In any case, the second section of my tale. After leaving (fleeing) home and it's flickering shadows, the runaway - for it is no longer right to call it a child - was soon made aware of the very harsh practicalities of everyday life. Firstly: money, and the lack thereof. As a minor, the runaway could not hold a job in the United Kingdom. Furthermore, she did not have any formal qualifications as such, so getting a job was quite out of the question. Secondly, travel. Given that my funds were limited, the runaway could certainly not use buses or taxis. So, it was walking on foot or risking the train occasionally.
And so on, and so on. Those called "runners" are lucky that they tend to be college-aged, as they call it in America. That's old enough to own a car, get a job and those myriad other things. The runaway had no such benefits, however, and resorted to things which I still find useful to this very day. Pickpocketing, lockpicking, trickery. The trinity of things one needs to survive when one cannot work, has no home and cannot get a job.
In any case, the runaway soon developed these skills -- there was little choice. A small amount (days) of jail-time was required in the teaching, but the runaway managed to stay out of there for any great amount of time. In my wanderings of the length of the country in search of a new home, I met Daniel, and things changed.
I shall leave the story there for now. I have things to ponder.