Iron City/Non-Erotic WIP

A story I'm starting on, and I'm having a REALLY rough time working out an acceptable introduction. A setting, a character, a crisis and action all at once seems so daunting!

So I'd love to get some feedback on this; just a page or so, I know, but does it convey a concept of what the city is like, and the character? Does it move too fast? Is there something I should add? Is it confusing?

Thanks ahead of time for any comments, and please feel free to be harsh!

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The frail winter sun was just touching the dark waters of the ocean, sinking like a frozen sailor into the horizon, when the gas lamps along the harbor were illuminated and the Festival of Lights began. Kestral withdrew deeper into the alley as the lamp-lighters did their work, keeping to the shadows, quiet as the snowfall though she panted and her heart beat wildly; I have to be fast. The waterfront was dense with bodies, shuffling through the grey slush of snow, ash and tears that blanketed the Iron City, but none paid her any attention. Adults rarely did anyways, but hiding was her talent.

She’d found a good spot, too. A pile of rusted cogs, struts and wires had been overlooked by scavengers, and provided plenty of shadow. Probably they were too rusted to be usable, and forged too cheaply impure to be worth the trouble of reclaiming. From what she could see, Kestral thought it had been a longshore-golem once, spending night and day endlessly unloading the cargo that fed the City’s industry, until, too tired and worn to continue on, it had died quietly and politely out of sight.

Such was the way of the City.

Although the people couldn’t see her, crouched shivering beneath the twisted brass ribcage, she watched them intently. I have to be fast! A small kitten, black as Kestral’s hair and unphased by the elements, crouched beside her; both were ready to pounce. Two pairs of green, feral eyes glinted in the lamp light.

She almost missed the signal, too intent upon remaining still, upon not letting her teeth chatter. At the whistle Kestral launched herself from her hiding place, sprinted down the alley and reached the end just as her prey passed in front of it, as she knew they would. They weren’t adults; those could call the law and be taken seriously. Those could bring the Guards, and the axes that stole thieves’ hands away. No, her prey were each twice as big as she, but they were just other children: rivals, the Docks gang. Kestral didn’t breathe – I have to be fast! -- the sharp tin sliver of her shiv flashed once as she brushed past, then the crowds swallowed her whole, vanished her into the mass before the Docks kids saw her face.

The cold weight of the leather purse felt like joy, elation. I was fast! She laughed aloud, danced between legs and skirts as she held her prize close. Kestral twirled, grinning as her muddy dress fanned around her legs, and stared into a livid face, eyes wide and teeth set. Oh dear, they’re fast too. She ran.

There wasn’t much place to go, but Kestral’s scarce body served her well. She dived through spaces the larger boys had to push past, keeping just ahead of them in the crowds. Ahead of her, above the crowd of disapproving glances, she saw the wooden sign painted with broken gears that marked her goal.