What I've got so far for Chapter 1, mostly unedited. Uh, enjoy? :P Feedback much appreciated.

Birds twittered softly in the distance as the sun sleepily raised its head over the hills. Soft golden light illuminated the country side, and poured in through a murky window. Inside, a girl stirred underneath the heavy blankets.
Fawn slowly felt herself waking up as the warmth washed over her, and immediately wished it would stop. She rolled over to try and shield her eyes from the light, but only succeeded in disturbing the blankets and sending dust motes swirling through the air. One of them flew up her nose, and she sneezed violently.
Well, at least she was awake.
Yawning, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. She stumbled as she made her way across the vast, mostly empty room that looked like it had a good clean in years - probably because it hadn’t. The old floor creaked with every step Fawn took, and she groaned, hoping she didn’t wake anyone up.
Why did old houses have to be so noisy, anyway?
Hopping as she pulled on a pair of old pants that were definitely becoming too tight for her, Fawn smelt something wafting up from downstairs. Rich and bittersweet, Fawn would know that scent anywhere- coffee. They had coffee.
She was still tugging a shirt on over her singlet as she bolted down the stairs, and nearly ran into a wall as she pulled it over her face. On any other morning, Fawn would curse her clumsiness, but the only thing running through her mind was the word coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.
They had coffee.
Fawn tumbled into the kitchen, not bothering to slow down before slamming herself down in a chair. “Morning, Lachie,” she chirped in between pants.
Lachie turned around from the counter and carefully carried two steaming cups over to the table. “Why can’t you be this pleasant every morning?” he sighed as he set her cup in front of her.
Ignoring his jibe, Fawn tousled his thick brown hair. He scowled. She knew he hated it when she did that.
The coffee was watery and weak- no milk or sugar- but it was still the best thing Fawn had tasted in months. Rarely did they have coffee, and when they did it was usually all gone before she got any.
“Have I ever told you you’re my best friend?” Fawn crooned as she sipped at the drink.
“Every time I feed you.” Lachie laughed, and his dark hazel eyes crinkled at the corners.
Fawn sat back in her chair and felt the caffeine pump through her veins, savouring the sensation. She closed her eyes and listened as Lachie drummed his fingers on the table. His nails made an annoying tap, tap, tap as they hit the table, and Fawn couldn’t help but feel jealous. A nervous nail-biting habit left her with unsightly, stumpy nails.
“So, how long have you been awake?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
“Oh, about an hour or so.” Tap, tap, tap, tap. Fawn wished he would stop that.
“Do you ever sleep?”
“I can sleep when I’m dead.”
Fawn shot up and grabbed his wrist, stopping the tapping. “Don’t say that!” she snapped.
Lachie blinked, looking dumbfounded. “What?” he grumbled, seizing his hand back.
“Nothing,” Fawn murmured, looking down. Her cheeks grew hot. Fawn would never admit to Lachie that the thing she feared most was him dying. He would only laugh at her.
But to be truthful with herself, Fawn really was scared for him. Every single time they went out to gather supplies, something dark and cruel in her mind stirred and she found herself picturing him with an arrow through his head or a blade slicing his throat. If he died, she would have no one.
Sure, Fawn liked the rest of the group. They took care of each other, and got along just fine. But Lachie was her only true friend.
“Morning, you two.”
Fawn turned in her chair to see Oliver, their group leader standing in the doorway. He had to duck his head as he walked through.
“Listen,” said Oliver, clapping his hands together. He always skipped pleasantries. “I need you guys to go out tonight and get some supplies. We’re gonna be out in a few days.”
Fawn spat her coffee back into her cup mid-sip. Unfortunately, she breathed before it was all in the cup and started coughing violently. “Are you kidding?” she asked incredulously as her coughing fit subsided. “The summer markets have barely finished!”
“Well, yes. But you should be fine if you go at night.” He pulled up a chair next to Lachie and clapped him on the back. “Besides, I’m sending my two best thieves, aren’t I?”
Lachie puffed his chest out proudly at Oliver’s less-than-subtle attempt to win them over, but Fawn just felt even less inclined to go. She hated the word “thief”. It made feel like a lowlife. Like a criminal. Like a… thief.
“Come on,” urged Lachie. “We’ll be fine, Fawn.”
Reluctantly, Fawn said she would go. Her heart curled lower, out of her ribcage, making itself comfortable in her stomach.
Fawn barely registered as Oliver’s wife Sarah shuffled into the kitchen, followed by Lauren, a girl roughly Fawn’s age, and her post-adolescent brother Thomas.
The hands of the dusty kitchen clock, still working by some miracle, crawled past slowly. Eventually, the sun set, and the cool of the night sent draughts through the old house.
Fawn and Lachie had been sitting on the floor of the lounge room, playing cards with Thomas. Lauren had been playing, but had immediately thrown her cards down in a fit and left with barely a flick of her ash blonde hair when she lost. Fawn had always found Lauren a bit ridiculous; for someone with so little, she always expected quite a lot.
Looking out the window, Lachie sat up. “Well, I guess we’d better start heading off.” He sounded too eager, and his eyes flashed with something that looked suspiciously like excitement.
Fawn and Lachie left the house twenty minutes later with kitchen knives stashed in their belts. As they began to set into the night, Fawn stole one last fond look at the manor.
The safe house sat in a clearing, almost blending in with the forest, as overgrown with vines as it was. Barely visible between the vines was the beautiful violet and white-flecked stone the manor was made of, turned grey-green with moss and age. It had been raining, and the wet mud soaked through Fawn’s sneakers, squelching uncomfortably between her toes.
“Brilliant,” she muttered under her breath.
Aside from Lachie’s heavy breathing beside her, the night was silent. The closer they got to the town, the heavier Fawn’s heart grew with worry. When the town lights became visible on the horizon, she almost turned back towards the forest and bolted for the house.
Haven, a large town hugging the coast of the Southern East Island, always attracted tourists from all over the Kingdom when summer hit. Bright stalls and tents were slowly set up, dousing the streets in colour and celebration. People would flock from all over until summer peaked, and the heat would send people packing – but no matter how many frowns could be seen passing in horse-drawn carriages, the people always had the comfort of knowing that the markets would be back again next year, without fail.
The town shone like a beacon in the darkness, despite it being past ten, at least. Most people would be in bed, and those who weren’t would be working to pack up the market stalls that lined the streets after a busy week of tourism, haggling and festivities.
It was a dangerous time to be in town, for obvious reasons, but that wasn’t the only reason Fawn was avoiding this trip. She had grown used to her lifestyle, where she lived for each day and left no regrets, but seeing so many happy, carefree people stirred a spark of jealousy inside her. They could peruse shops and stalls to their leisure, buying what they pleased, when Fawn would be left picking scraps from bins and sneaking food when no one was looking.
The entire town was surrounded by an eight-foot tall wall made of enchanted white stone, put in place for the exact purpose of keeping normal humans like Fawn and Lachie out. No matter; they had found their way around this obstacle over the years of travelling to and from Haven for supplies.
“Come on,” whispered Lachie into Fawn’s ear, making her jump slightly as she broke out of her reverie. “This way.”
Fawn knew where she was going, but didn’t object to being led. The wall was completely circular, with only two entrances in and out, each guarded by enchantments – not to mention the always-alert security guards that were posted there 24/7. Neither of these entrances were part of the break-in plan.
Fawn mentally shuddered at the term “break-in”. An image of Lachie and her skulking around in black robber’s clothes, half bent over and suspicious-looking, crept into her mind. Well, they were both wearing black – but they walked with straight backs, keeping their eyes wide open and ears pricked, ready for anything.
Lachie stopped suddenly, and Fawn nearly ran into the back of him. A large rose bush grew against the wall, in stark contrast to the white. If she weren’t so used to it, Fawn might have stopped to marvel at the beauty of it.
Without saying anything, they both began to cautiously part the branches, minding the thorns. After a few pricked fingers and scratches, they reached the ground underneath the plant. The thick leaves concealed the tunnel here – hand dug by Oliver himself one late winter’s night a few years back. It was definitely worth a few scratches to not have to hoist each other over the wall and be left vulnerable, in clear view.
“Ladies first.” Lachie winked and motioned with his free hand, the other pushing against the bush, keeping the plant from snapping inwards.
Fawn climbed into the hole slowly, minding where she put her hands and knees. There was no hurry; as long as they both kept kneeling, Fawn and Lachie were completely concealed by the rose bush. The plant left a few parting scratches as Fawn’s legs disappeared down into the tunnel.
When they had first started using the tunnel entrance, Fawn had been worried about the dirt crumbling and the tunnel collapsing, burying her alive. After a few trips, she realised that the dirt was really more like hardened clay – Oliver had truly been a saint in digging this for them with his bare hands.
Despite occasionally despising Oliver for sending her on suicide missions like this one, Fawn had to admit that he always did what was best for the group. He had faith in her and Lachie; it was worth having them take this risk so that the rest of the group didn’t starve.
The tunnel continued for some time, Fawn and Lachie passing under the feet of unsuspecting citizens. Every now and then Fawn would even her footsteps echoing dully from above. The tunnel stank of earth and rot, and Fawn could barely move her knees and shoulders enough to edge herself along.
Just as Fawn started fearing that the roof would suddenly collapse or that they would be trapped and slowly suffocate to death, she hit her head on something in the pitch black. They’d reached the end of the tunnel. Fawn hastily began feeling the roof above her, her fingers searching for a fault line.
There it was; small and barely tangible, but definitely there. Fawn dug her fingers in around the crack and pushed with her other arm. Her legs shook, struggling to hold her upper body up in such a confined space. The exit finally loosened, and Fawn carefully lifted it up stuck her head out into the night air.
The tunnel ended in the middle of the orchard – convenient and safe. The chances of Fawn and Lachie being sighted by a random passer-by were practically non-existent here, and they could grab food and go without having to walk around in the open.
“Clear,” Fawn grunted to Lachie as she hoisted herself out of the hole in the ground. They silently paced up and down the lines of trees, stopped at each one to pick a few pieces of fruit. They had to be careful to make it inconspicuous; no random patches on the tree completely stripped of fruit. That might raise a few questions.
The night was cool and quiet, the far-off chirping of insects the only sound that filtered down through the trees. Fawn’s nerves were beginning to abate, but she still watched her footing as she walked, being careful so as to not snap a stray twig underneath her foot. There was no one around to hear it, but you could never be too careful when trespassing on a freak’s property- and everywhere was freak’s property. With a sinking in her stomach, Fawn frowned. There was truly nowhere they were welcome.