The wind whistled against his shoulders, nearly pushing him from his precarious perch on a tree branch. The bells on his hat jingled and reminded him of his poor choice in attire. How was he to sneak up on Javert now?

It wasn't the best of plans, but he was rather desperate. His caravan was a few miles away and perfectly safe (from the other gypsies, not so much from Frollo). Javert had endangered the gypsy colony too many times for Clopin to ignore, but he still was weary of letting others get involved. This was something he, as his peoples leader, needed to do alone.

With a quick leap, he firmly planted himself behind a colorful tent; currently unoccupied, thank the stars. A few torches were lit randomly throughout the camp, meaning Clopin would need to keep close to the outside and try to spot the man. Once he found him, he'd wait for the perfect opportunity to knock him out and take his money supply, which he knew for a fact the man kept at his side at all times. And, knowing his controlling personality, he'd have the entire camps profit, instead of letting everyone take their own share.

Clopin peered under the orange tarp of a nearby tent, seeing a sleeping tiger in a large cage, as well as a few people milling around it. But no Javert.

It took a few more tents (and more than a few close calls) before he found the bulky gypsy man. From Clopins vantage point, he could see that the tent was only lit by a single torch attached to the center post, making him difficult to see as well as who he seemed to be talking to. All he knew was that the tent was empty, besides the two people. Clopin was willing to knock out another gypsy if this was his only chance.

Clopin took hold of his jingling hat, pressing it firmly against his chest to silence the annoying, yet loveable bells. Once he was sure no one was looking, he slipped under the tarp and quickly hid himself behind the pole, taking care not to hit the torch. How thankful he was to be unnaturally skinny.

The only thing he could hear was Javerts deep thunder of a voice murmuring something angrily to his companion. There was too much noise going on outside for Clopin to properly eavesdrop, but he assumed the unknown gypsy had done something horrible to warrant such fiery anger. Since it seemed Javert was distracted, he decided now was a good time to knock him over the head with the small club he had hidden in his belt.

Just as he was preparing to jump him, Javert suddenly stormed to the entrance flap, making a hasty and loud exit before he disappeared amongst the disembodied voices outside.

Clopin wanted to scream. This was taking too much time! And now he had to start over and find him all over again.

He carefully peaked around the pole to see if the other gypsy was still there, but was surprised to find that the room was empty, save for the medium sized cage against the opposite side of the tent. Who had Javert been talking to? A monkey?

It didn't matter. He needed to hurry up and find that horrible man.

With a sigh, he firmly tugged the hat atop his head, satisfied by the tinkering bells at the sudden movement.

"who's there?" Clopin jumped, causing the bells to jingle wildly before falling silent. Had he just heard someone? The tent seemed empty, though the fading light cast an eerie orange glow over the room, sending odd shadows that made Clopin weary.

There was a shifting sound, like scooting over metal and hay. After a little while a small form appeared near the bars. The only clear thing Clopin could make out were two vibrant and unnaturally yellow eyes. There was no way it could belong to a human.

But it had spoken to him...hadn't it?

"Are you a gypsy?" It asked in clear french, though it had an odd accent, as though it had known other languages.

Clopin was a very curious man, as long as it didn't interfere with his safety. But whatever this was was behind bars, it couldn't hurt him. And Javert would be busy all night roaming from tent to tent. He had time to see what this... thing- was.

He took his time, slowly inching to the creature. The closer he got the more he could see. Or at least his eyes were adjusting.

But after he was only a foot from the bars did he see that this thing was not a thing at all. It was a little boy.

"what are y-"

"shh" The boy warned, turning to look at the tent entrance. Clopin quickly scrambled over to the edge of the tent and slid back out just as a crowd began noisily pouring into the room.

"Come! Come inside!"

Clopin peaked under the tent to see Javert standing tall, a coiled whip in hand, beckoning the people closer to the cage. Clopin frowned at the thought. The boy was in that cage with a burlap bag over his head. And Javert had a weapon and...he was entering the cage now. Javert hung a torch Clopin hadn't noticed, making the shadows disappear and bathing the boy in light. He could see now that the boys wrists were tied together by a rough rope that was also tied to one of the bars. Though he struggled to crawl away, Clopin could see what was destined to happen and it made him realize 'Javert is crazier than anyone had ever thought'.

Clopin crawled under the tent siding, making his way back over to the cage while keeping his eye on the tent entrance. The boy, whose unfortunate face had been revealed to the crowd before he was beaten, was unlike anything Clopin had ever seen. He was thin, with only a small dirty rag of shorts to cover him, making every scar and bruise visible. But, obviously, the worst thing about him was his face, which was so molten and deformed it was hard to describe.

But he could see the sadness in those dangerously beautiful eyes. No one deserved this inhuman torture.

Clopin cursed. He couldn't leave him here.

"boy. Hey, can you hear me?" He nudged the boy softly on the shoulder, expecting him to flinch away, but it seemed he was too tired and hurt to move. "Come on. I'm going to get you out of here."

Those brilliant eyes looked up at him, glistening with tears that made Clopins heart break, before falling back to stare at Clopins feet. "..why?" He croaked dryly.

"You are a child. I will not leave you to be killed." Clopin almost smiled to assure him, but decided now was not the time. "What is your name, child?"

He lay still, seeming to ignore him. But Clopin didn't have time for this. "I will return shortly. I don't suppose you will be able to run, just stay conscious, alright?" He quickly hopped to his feet, feeling confident with the help of his jingling hat(crown) as he cartwheeled out of the tent, blending in with the performers. He kept his eyes peeled for Javert, feeling too much anger than necessary. Fighting angry was a horrible tactic that made you sloppy and caused mistakes. He couldn't afford that.

As he was making his second round towards the boy's tent he saw the gypsy man. He was laughing with a large barbarian of a man, fingering his whip resting in its holster. Clopin did a back flip behind a tent, circling it until he was close enough to smell the man's foul breath. Up close it overpowered his body odor.

"He's too stupid to see it coming. By noon tomorrow we'll have him begging for mercy." Javert barked out a laugh, throwing his head back and showing off his rotten teeth with multiple gaps.

"I've got a few ladies who need entertaining. I'll speak with you tomorrow." The man quickly left and Clopin wasted no time in taking this opportunity.

Once he was effectively knocked out, Clopin dug in his pockets, finding the keys to the cages as well as the rather large coin purse. He snickered at the ugly man before slipping back into the shadows to find the boys tent again.

"boy!" Clopin whispered, running to the cage and quickly unlocked the heavy door. It swung open with a loud, rusty whine.

The boy was shaking, but conscious. Being mindful of the whip marks littering his back, Clopin lifted him and held him firmly to his chest before slipping out the back of the tent.

The bells seemed to cheer him on, loudly ringing in his ear with each step. He was worried the boy would be bothered by the sound, but instead he saw that he was looking up at them with a look of astonishment.

"bells..." the child muttered before sinking into Clopins embrace. He was tired and worn, happy to fall unconscious against Clopins body-heat.

Clopin smiled. At least he wasn't broken. But he couldn't take him to the gypsy hideout, for he was not a gypsy as far as he could tell. And despite the fact that the gypsies would mostly accept him, it was the small percent that wouldn't that was the problem. And then he'd have to explain where he'd been to acquire such an odd boy.

He shivered. No. he couldn't tell them.

After an hour of walking through dense foliage, he saw the tall towers of Notre Dame, the beautiful bell tower standing proudly, bathed in moonlight. Clopin loved Paris dearly and the church was one of his favorite sights. Often times, when he was in trouble, he ran to her for sanctuary until the guards grew bored.

Sanctuary. Clopin looked down at the little boy, the Devil's Child, sleeping soundly in his arms. Surely the church would keep him safe. He just needed to claim sanctuary.

He made up his mind easily. He would take the child to the archdeacon before sunrise and return to his camp before anyone noticed their king was gone.